Falling In Love With Nightmares
by Wrenade Magicath
Summary: In two strides he crossed the lawn and caught her arm in his, gripping it tightly. "Don't you talk to me like that! Filthy little-" "Mudblood?" she whispered.
1. Chapter One

**Thank you for reading my story.** **JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, not me.**

**Chapter One**

There was only one way for Hermione to avoid talking to Fleur Weasley, who was a lovely and quite charming witch, but also incredibly boring and intimidating, and that way was for her to duck out under the tent, and cross to the gnome garden infront of the Weasley's house, where she could sit and relax in peace behind the wall and let her migraine pass. So that is what she did, with a quick, swift dive, she was out from under the white tarpaulin and strolling across the Weasley's garden.

It was Harry's' 19th birthday, and had planned a surprise party for him at the Burrow. It had been a wonderful day, she had caught up with Bill and Charlie, danced endlessly with her boyfriend Ron, whom she absolutely adored, and got a chance to talk to all the people she hadn't seen for a while. But now Ron was with his friends, and Hermione, tired, had resigned to sitting at the bar alone, before she noticed Fleur making her way towards her and pulled a Houdini like escape stunt.

It wasn't that Hermione didn't like parties, she just felt like and quiet time, alone.

The air was muggy and scented as she walked into the small gnome inhabited garden, hoping to sit in the shade under the wall.

But someone was already sitting there. Draco Malfoy.

She didn't remember anyone telling her he had been invited. Or even seeing him in the tents. He must have been hiding out.

Draco Malfoy looked rough. His eyes were black and his hair line was visibly starting to recede even at the ripe age of twenty. Hermione frowned; he wasn't someone she particularly looked forward to bumping into. In fact, after the war she would have been glad to never see the blond git's face ever again. But there he was infront of her, and as his hate filled eyes snapped onto hers she knew she couldn't just quietly escape.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and scowled at her, "What are you doing here Granger?"

Hermione scoffed, "Excuse me _Malfoy,_ but in case you hadn't noticed, this _is _my best friend's birthday party."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed in a dark scowl and he looked away.

Hermione stood watching him, her feet on the brink of turning and walking away, Malfoy's retort having re-assured her it wouldn't be the _rudest_ thing she could do.

"Sit down Granger, I don't fucking bite." He muttered.

Her eyebrows flew up, but she sat down where she stood, the grass slightly damp with dew on her bare legs. His eyes were away from her.

"Why are you here Malfoy?" she asked, her voice accusing and stressed.

His grey eyes dragged across to meet her brown ones lazily.

"Because, Granger, I was invited."

Her arms wrapped around her small frame, she tried to lock in the remaining heat in the air that was slowly being dragged away by the breeze. She was watching Malfoy, the question burning on her tongue of who had invited him. He didn't say anything.

He was staring at the yellow flowers opposite him, not a care in the world showing on his pale face. But Hermione, even without being the smartest witch of her age, could tell there was obviously some problem, otherwise he wouldn't be hiding out in the garden. She guessed it was probably the awkwardness of the whole situation; whoever had invited him probably did it to be polite and didn't actually expect him to show up.

It was common knowledge that after the war the Malfoy's broke away from the dark side. Draco, Hermione learned, had moved away from home and into London. His parents hadn't been seen in public for weeks. Her eyes fell to his left arm, where she knew the dark mark lay under the thin grey material of his shirt, the same one that lay on his aunt's forearm, his aunt who had tortured her, and left a scar of a different kind on Hermione's pale forearm.

Her throat tightened at the memory, and she looked away. There was no need to go back there in her thoughts. Today was a happy day, and she had never been happier than she was now, with the war over and Ron as her boyfriend. Everything was falling into place like a perfect jigsaw. Hermione found herself hoping the pieces were falling reasonably for Malfoy too. She wanted to put the past behind her.

Draco Malfoy wondered why he was even here. Ginny Weasley, the youngest of the ginger weasels that he hated all through school, had sent him an owl inviting him to come. He knew she was dating Potter now, and in the letter she had explained how much she wanted Harry to be able to live normally now, and the fact she didn't want him to have any bad-blood with his old nemesis. The war, the fighting, the hatred… it was time for it to end.

He had agreed to come for one reason, to show everyone he too was normal now. He didn't really care what the goody two shoes ex-Gryffindors thought of him, if he was honest, but he was a Malfoy, he was to be respected. And he wanted to start a new life. Never did it cross his mind that Potter and he would become friends, but if going to some lousy party would prove to everyone that he, Draco Malfoy, was just as normal now as the rest of them, and then he would go. And go he had.

He didn't however, foresee the extreme awkwardness he faced when arriving. Harry, with a grunt under his breath at Ginny, had gritted his teeth and shaken his hand.

He exchanged hellos with a few of his old school mates and hightailed it to the bar at the back of the tent, where he had a few fire whiskeys, avoiding eye contact and staying quiet.

When he could no longer take the piteous looks being cast at him without a vicious insulting remark falling from his tongue, he snook out, for a few deep breaths, to the small garden. The last person he expected to see arriving after him was a blushing Granger. He cursed under his breath when he saw her, wearing a blue frilly dress and peering at him with the same look in her eyes that everyone else held when they saw him, anxiousness, pity, and an old resurfacing hatred.

Not that he actually cared, at all. In fact Draco Malfoy found himself wondering why the fuck he hadn't just apparated back to his one bedroom settee by now; it wasn't as if staying was doing any good. Her frowned at the annoying girl standing across the small garden,

"What are you doing here Granger?" he drawled, it was almost a habit, at this stage, to question the Gryffindor whenever she willingly wandered into a place he was clearly inhabiting.

"Excuse me _Malfoy,_ but in-case you hadn't noticed, this _is_ my best friend's birthday party." Her voice cut through the heavy air and brought him back to his school days.

He frowned, that wasn't what he had meant. He knew she was here for Potter's fucking birthday; everyone was here for the golden boy. What he wanted to know was why the golden _girl_ was sneaking out to the back garden, on her own, in the middle of fiesta de la Potter.

"Sit down Granger I don't fucking bite." He muttered, his grey eyes wandering to the flower beds across the garden, where a gnome was hiding, grumbling under its breath.

"Why are you here Malfoy?" she asked, her voice accusing and stressed.

His grey eyes dragged across to meet her brown ones lazily, she was sitting now. He didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing. Good that Granger was comfortable enough with him now to make light, vomit-inducing annoying conversation with him. Bad, because now Granger was apparently comfortable enough with him to make light, vomit-inducing annoying conversation.

"Because, Granger, I was invited." He snapped.

Why the fuck else did she think he had come?

Silence fell between them. He wanted to ask her again why she was hiding out here, with her feet bare in the wet grass and her arms wrapped around herself to stay warm, but she didn't ask him anything else about why he was here, and he realised she didn't care. He decided he didn't care either. It wasn't like sitting with someone he had spent 6 years of school with, enemies or not. It felt like sitting across from a complete stranger.

She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the hard stone wall, little bits of her escaped hair catching on the glittering granite. She wondered absently if Ron had noticed her leaving, and wished she had thought of asking him to accompany her out here.

He crossed his ankles as his legs stretched out infront of him, glancing at the snobby witch across from him to see her eyelids flutter closed. He wondered why he hadn't been smart enough to bring someone he knew along with him… Pansy perhaps. At least then he wouldn't be alone right now. He should leave, no one would notice.

Hermione couldn't rid her brain of fast racing thoughts. She should go back into the tent; it was rude to leave without telling anyone. But maybe she would just stay a bit longer… until Ron noticed and came to get her. No one else would notice, surely.

Draco stood and brushed off his trousers. His hair falling in his eyes, he shoved it back roughly. Granger's eyes flashed open and caught him as he started to walk towards the gate.

"Malfoy? Why are you leaving?" she asked him, frowning. His eyes pierced hers and she winced.

"I'm going home Granger, there's no point in sitting here all night." He spat.

She wouldn't let him talk to her like a dog anymore.

"Draco Malfoy what the fuck is you're problem?" she stood up, hands balling into fists in her skirt.

"Calm down Granger. _I_ don't have a problem. Go back to your drunken troll of a boyfriend… if he's even noticed you've left-"

"How dare you?! How dare you call Ron a troll! After all this time I figured maybe you had grown up a bit, but no! You're always going to be an evil little gargoyle aren't you Malfoy?" Fury lit up in her brown eyes. She was done taking shit from Malfoy.

In two strides he crossed the lawn and caught her arm in his.

"Don't you talk to me like that! Filthy little-"

"Mudblood?"Her voice cracked, she held his gaze.

His eyes widened. He had almost said it, _again._ He had vowed never to say it to anyone again. He had tried to change, to fix his old ways. But Granger, Granger and her annoying whining words had snapped something in him, and whatever it was apparently controlled the part of his brain that held his new found manners. His face looked pained.

Tears welled in her eyes as she yanked her arm out of his grip. The war was over, she was safe, she knew that. But to some people she would always be just a filthy little Mudblood. There was always going to be people who thought like Malfoy.

"Granger… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to talk like that." He muttered. She shook her head, brown eyes meeting his again.  
"Don't apologize Malfoy. That's how you think of me. I can accept that. Just don't act like you care, or bother pretending you're ever going to change."

She knew her words were harsh, and they hit him like a ton of bricks.

_Was_ he never going to change? Was it impossible? No. He decided in that split second that Hermione fucking Granger wasn't going to dictate to him how he lived his life, and whether or not he was a new man

"Hermione, look at me. I am sorry. Honestly. I _am_ changing, everyday. I don't want to live like that anymore, like a death eater. It's just… coming here, to a party…. Trying to fit in yet being judged by people who can't even _tell_ I know I'm being judged, people who have given me a chance and then proven they didn't think I was man enough to accept it. I know it's my fault. I know all of the looks and glares and whispers behind my back are my entire fault. But I don't want it. I don't want to be Draco Malfoy anymore. I want to be…. New. Different. God-damn it Hermione I want a fucking life."

His eyes lightened as he talked, his face becoming more and more vulnerable looking before he snapped a scowl back into place. Hermione breathed out. She didn't think Malfoy had ever talked to her so long, with a civil tongue. And never, not once, could she remember him calling her Hermione. She was lost for words as she stared into his eyes. He was serious, she realised, and he actually was trying. And even if he looked like he was about to hex her right here and now, Hermione knew it was only because he was devastated at the fact he had been so open about his feeling with her, and that he'd _actually admitted_ to having feelings.

He started at her, her lips parted and eyes wide. He had shocked her, fucking hell Hermione granger the know-it-all had finally been silenced by him. He scowled at himself.

Why in hell had he told her about his plan, his _failing_ plan, to change? He hadn't even realised himself why he was so depressed about this bloody party, until the words had tumbled form his mouth in a fast paced blur. Now it was out there, hanging lifeless in the air between him and the girl he had religiously despised for six years.

Hermione touched his arm, her eyes warm. She had certainly never expected Malfoy to trust her with his problems like that, but she was more like Molly Weasley than even she knew. When his guard fell, when the hardened mask he wore cracked and she saw the man underneath was crying out for help, when his voice broke and his lips tremered and he told her he wanted a new life, she knew she had to help him.

"Malfoy, Draco, I – thank you for apologizing." She mumbled.

He looked at her, thinking how she was till the most annoying, stubborn and infuriating witch he had ever met. But now, and it was once again only his fault, she had become his lifeline. A lifeline to a new life. Surely to god she could help him change, if anyone could. Despite despising her, he knew she could be trusted. Her eyes glowed golden brown and made him feel….hopeful. Maybe it wasn't a waste coming to this party after all. He suddenly thought it would be quite a good idea to get on talking terms with Hermione at least, then possibly Potter and Weasley. He smiled at her, a small, crooked smile that involved his left check raising and his lips pulling up awkwardly. She smiled back at him, a proper smile that made her eyes crinkle and her dimples appear like magic.

"Hermione… will you help me? Please?" he asked.

She nodded, "Malfoy… Draco, I'm sure I can try helping you. We can come to some arrangement."

His stiffed back relaxed, and his smile came more naturally. "Thanks…. Hermione. Maybe now we won't have to be strangers anymore."

She grinned, a smile that was wiped clean from her face as a redhead stormed across the yard towards them.

"Ron-" she started, but he cut her off.

"Mione! Where'd you go for?" he slurred. "What the fuck did this twat do to you?!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	2. Chapter Two

**Thank you for reading my story.** **JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, not me.**

**Chapter Two**

Luminous stars reflected in Hermione's brown eyes, as she lay in the middle of the street outside her home. It was half two in the morning, and she had conjured a mini galaxy of stars above her head with her wand, a spell Ginny taught her. She was cold, she was exhausted, but she wanted to think.

Ron was at home, snoring probably, in the burrow. If he woke up and she wasn't by his side again, he would worry, maybe. She loved him so much her heart felt like it breaking with the amount of it. But she hated how he had acted tonight.

(Flashback)

Ron hurtled towards them, his mouth ajar and eyes filled with fire.

"What the fuck are you here for Malfoy? You sick sadistic little-"

"Ron, you don't understand-" Hermione jumped in, but she wasn't able to finish, Malfoy was the one to interrupt her this time.

"Don't talk to me like that, Weasel! Go back to slobbering over Fire whiskey with your friends."

"What did you say to me?!" Ron demanded.

"I told you to-"

WHACK. Ron's fist clumsily smashed into the side of Draco Malfoy's face, sending him staggering. Hermione jumped infront of Ron, her face pleading as she held onto his shirt and looked deeply into his blue eyes, she saw the fire in them calm.

"Ron! Stop! He hasn't done a thing honestly, he-"

Crack.

Hermione spun around to find the garden empty, Draco had dissparated. Her heart fell, if had just stayed for two minutes…

Ron took her arm, tugging her back to face him.

"He's gone now Mione, t-that little prat. W-why did he even come?"

Hermione frowned, tears welling in her eyes. There was no point talking to Ron when he was in this state, no point in trying to explain that his school enemy had come to redeem himself and attempt to slowly blur the past six years of hatred into a memory, not make into the present.

Ron wouldn't remember anything she would say to him right now, or understand it. She sighed as he pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping her small arms around his muscular waist. "I love you." He murmured.

"I love you too."

(End of flashback)

The stars blurred through the tears in her eyes and she smiled, she wasn't even sure why. This was ridiculous.

War was over, but Voldemort was still clutching and grasping on people's lives. He was still in control, and it made her stomach turn.

Death Eaters, War heroes, Dumbledore's army, The Order of the Phoenix, everyone was still judged by how they were when Voldemort was in power. Everyone still avoided interacting with each other.

But people had changed, Hermione could see it.

Those who fought with Voldemort were relieved to be normal once again. Not all of them, but some of them, most.

Some people, of course, were still living in darkness, hating any wizard who didn't have a 'pure' bloodline and wishing they still had a leader to follow, someone who was always much worse than them, and made their petty crimes morally acceptable to themselves.

But then there was the people who could finally breathe again, the people who wanted more than anything to forget their past and the way they lived. Maybe at some stage they supported Voldemort, but a lot of them- like the children of death eaters, the ones who attended Hogwarts, were relieved not to continue to follow further in the footsteps of their parents and be purely… evil.

Hermione had despised Draco Malfoy throughout all her years in school. He was the worst type of Slytherin, big-headed and ignorant. And for the most part, he had been just that, a big-headed bully.

But bullies always had their reasons, and Hermione reckoned Draco was jealous, and scared. She had always been consumed with hatred for the blond git, but since sixth year she had seen a different side to him, a regretful, scared, jealous side. He didn't want to be bad anymore, not when being bad got to mean more than just childish bullying. He wanted to change, and this was his chance. She could feel it. But it was made clear to her by her boyfriend that it was going to be a lot harder for him to be accepted as a changed man than she thought.

Hermione sat up slowly, it was three in the morning now, the rain began to fall lightly on her pale upturned face, refreshing and cooling her hot skin.

She apparated back to the burrow five minutes later, her hair beginning to frizz and her makeup long gone. Her parents would never know she had been sitting outside their house for three hours, the daughter they still couldn't remember.

Ron was asleep; his lanky body sprawled out on his bed, half covered by blankets. Hermione undressed, brushed her hair, and clambered into the bed beside him,

His arms found her cold body and they enclosed around her, pulled her in closer to him as he slept.

She smiled, closing her eyes, thinking she could be happy just like this forever. But the familiar nagging in her heart that always started at night time began aching as she slipped from consciousness.

It ached for her mother, who had forgotten about the little girl with brown curls and gappy teeth. It pained for her dad, who would never remember how she hugged him so tight when he dropped her off on her first day of school, or how he wiped away tears of pride as he watched her toddling off with her 'brave' face on, the one they had practised. They didn't remember her laugh, her freckles, the endless cards and pictures and stupid little school art projects that she made over the years and had presented to them with a smile.

They didn't, they wouldn't ever remember how she used to mispronounce words when she was little because of her lisp, or how she used to tell them she wanted to be an astronaut. They didn't remember that she liked one sugar in her tea or that Christmas was her favourite holiday or that September 19th wasn't just another day of the year. They didn't know she was theirs.

They didn't remember her… at all.

After the war, she and Ron had gone to find them, bring them back to London. Hermione had tried and tried to undo the memory loss she had inflicted upon them, but nothing ever worked, and Ron had comforted her as she broke.

Her heart ached for the family she lost, but also for a new reason.

It hurt for the blond boy, who now was somewhere alone in London, his own heart aching. Not because his parents had forgotten him, but because they wished they had forgotten him, and so did everyone else.

Draco apparated outside his apartment block in London, hand clutching his aching jaw. Weasley had hit hard, he had almost a more fierce right hook than Hermione had, when she hit him in their third year.

He scowled as he climbed the grimy stairs to his room, and when he unlocked his door, a foul smell hit him. God, he needed to clean up this dump. Collapsing onto the lumpy couch, he summoned a glass of water. He had no house elf now, and he knew nothing of cleaning spells. Brilliant.

How did muggles live?

He realised it was quite ridiculous to be almost 20 and have no idea how to clean up, it made him despise himself even more. He didn't want there to be anything he couldn't do.

That night he fell asleep on the couch, his thoughts numbed by muggle alcohol.

xxxxx

The next day was a rainy one, and when he felt like a fool standing infront of the girl in the red, supermarket branded t-shirt, his hair dripping.

"The cleaning supplies?" she repeated.

"Yes, and I need to know which ones to buy." He glowered at her, and she shrunk back.

"Okay Sir, this way."

She showed him where the cleaning stuff was stacked on shelves, and pointed him towards the ones he would need.

"Okay, you may…. Leave now." He told her coldly, before adding, "Thank you." He was not exactly sure what else to say, and he realised he had talked to her like a house elf.

What is wrong with me? He thought as he piled a lot of colourful, weirdly named bottles into his basket.

When he was finished paying, and his groceries were thrown randomly into two plastic carrier bags, he walked home again in the pouring rain, missing the warmth of the grocery store.

He would make himself some tea, perhaps, and read the back of the bottles to see what exactly it was he was supposed to use these muggle cleaning potions for. What he wasn't expecting, when he reached the top of the staircase to his room, was to find Hermione Granger sitting against the wall across from his room, just like the way she sat in the garden.

"Hermione?" he asked, and her eyes flew up to his.

"I thought you were ignoring my knocking." She said, awkwardly and embarrassed.

"Your neighbour came out and told me to shut up."

He glowered at the door across from his, stupid neighbours.

"Why did you come here?" he asked her, not even bothering to ask how she had known where to find him.

"I wanted to, em, well, talk to you." She almost whispered.

Draco scowled; did she mean what she had said when she told him she would help him?

He hoped she did, he wasn't even ashamed of his hope.

"Do you want to come in then?" he asked.

She nodded.

Embarrassed, he unlocked his door and led her into his apartment. It was smelly and dirty and dark, and even though Hermione tried to hide her disgust and wrinkled nose, he caught a glimpse of it.

"I'm sorry." He muttered under his breath, "About the mess, I bought cleaning supplies today."

Hermione nodded again. "Don't apologize Draco, I realise you probably weren't expecting visitors."

He laid the grocery bags down on the counter and opened the curtains.

Hermione stood awkwardly by the couch, he had no idea what to say to her.

"This is lovely." She gestured to a huge glass fronted antique looking bookcase that stood by an old television.

"Oh… well I'm not exactly sure what it's used for, it was here when I moved in and I think its electric-"

Hermione cut him off.

"No, not the television, the bookcase. It's beautiful."

His face looked puzzled, and he walked towards it before she could, not wanting her to see what was inside it.

"Thanks, I brought it from my old room."

Hermione smiled.

"What did you want again?" Draco asked, his eyebrows rose.

"I – well, I wanted to talk to you about the… plan. The plan to help you change. But if it's not convenient I can always leave." She told him.

"Oh… no!" he exclaimed. "I mean, its fine. But before we talk, would… I mean… could you help me? Do me a favour?"

"What is it?"

"Help me clean up?"

Hermione looked shocked.

"Of course I will." She said.

"Do you know all the cleaning spells?" he asked her.

"Yes. But before I show you them, I think it would be good to teach you how to clean the muggle way. You bought the cleaning products?"

"Yeah."

"Then let's get to it."

Hermione awoke to find Ron gone. Ginny informed her that he and Harry had gone to play Quidditch. She told Ginny to tell Ron she was gone shopping, then showered, dressed, and apparated to London.

To find Draco's house, she used a simple wand-compass spell that would make her wand spin in her palm, telling her which way to walk to reach what she told her wand was 'Draco Malfoy's Apartment.' It was simple enough.

She climbed a dingy, grey staircase that smelled like pee, and found herself in a hallway lined with doors. The wand pointed her all the way to the one she needed. She knocked taintivly.

"Draco?" She called.

No answer.

She knocked again. No sound came from inside the apartment.

"DRACO MALFOY?" she called loudly, banging with intensity on his door, 313.

A door to her left opened and a fat, bald mad wearing boxers and an oversized dirty blue t-shirt emerged.

"Shut the fuck up!" he called to her, and she cringed back against the wall, nodding. When the man dissapeered back inside his apartment, Hermione slid down the light blue, peeling paint of the wall. She would sit here until he acknowledged her presence. She didn't want to knock again, the man that had come out looked scary, this whole building gave her the creeps. It was a rough place. She had her wand, of course, but she wouldn't want to use magic on a muggle to defend herself, more over – she didn't want there to be a reason to have to defend herself.

It was half an hour later when she heard her name being called. "Hermione?"

She looked up and saw him walking towards her, shopping bags clutched in his pale fingers and rain clutching his hair.

"I thought you were ignoring my knocking." She told him, feeling awkward and embarrassed, "Your neighbour came out and told me to shut up." She stood up

Draco's eyes seemed to darken and he glowered at the door beside his.

"Why did you come here?" he asked her.

"I wanted to, em, well, talk to you." She said, thinking now that this may have been a bad idea. How much had Malfoy had to drink when he asked her to help him?

Draco scowled; did she mean what she had said when she told him she would help him?

He hoped she did, he wasn't even ashamed of his hope.

"Do you want to come in then?" he asked.

She nodded.

Inside Draco's apartment, she felt uncomfortable and out if place, knowing he probably didn't want her here.

"I'm sorry." He muttered under his breath, "About the mess, I bought cleaning supplies today."

Hermione nodded, at least he was planning to clean up, she couldn't imagine he could feel comfortable living like this. "Don't apologize Draco, I realise you probably weren't expecting visitors."

Hermione stood awkwardly by the couch, everything she had planned to say to him suddenly vanishing from her mind.

"This is lovely." She gestured to a huge glass fronted antique looking bookcase that stood by an old television, wanting to break the intense silence between them.

"Oh, well I'm not exactly sure what it's used for, it was here when I moved in and I think it's electric-" Draco thought she was talking about the TV, Hermione cut him off.

"No, not the television, the bookcase. It's beautiful."

His face looked puzzled, and he walked towards it with a worried expression.

"Thanks, I brought it from my old room."

Hermione smiled, he obviously liked to read. She was curious as to what it was he read.

"What did you want again?" Draco asked, his eyebrows raised, pulling her form her thoughts.

"I – well, I wanted to talk to you about the… plan. The plan to help you change. But if it's not convenient I can always leave." She told him.

"Oh… no!" he exclaimed. "I mean, its fine. But before we talk, would… I mean… could you help me? Do me a favour?"

"What is it?"

"Help me clean up?"

Hermione blanched, not expecting that question. The great Draco Malfoy, asking for help for the second time in two days.

"Of course I will."

"Do you know all the cleaning spells?"

"Yes. But before I show you them, I think it would be good to teach you how to clean the muggle way. You bought the cleaning products?"

"Yeah."

"Then let's get to it."

Hermione set him to cleaning the fridge, and she started on washing the dishes. He watched as she transformed the toaster to a radio, and turned on a song. She really was amazing at magic. Rain lashed heavily against the window, mixing with the music.

He turned back to the fridge and continued wiping the shelves, hearing her sing along to the song under her breath, her voice soft. He turned around to see her dancing, swaying side to side in front of the sink.

The song changed from singing to face paced lyrics being hurled out like warped poetry from a rough voiced man, and she didn't sing along with this part. He didn't know muggle music, but he liked it.

He liked the way she danced.

"Hermione?" He called.

She jumped.

Embarrassed, she turned to face him, realising she had been singing not moments ago.

"Yeah?"

"I finished the shelves."

"Okay, well pack the groceries into the fridge then."

He smiled at her. Actually smiled. Not a smirk or an ignorant sneer. He smiled.

Hermione smiled back, feeling so much happier now that she came to visit him.

When he turned away to get the groceries, she watched him for a moment, watched how his head nodded to the beat of the song and his big hands placed the food carefully on the shelves. Rain cascaded onto the grey window. She was glad to be helping.

He was glad she was helping, realising he probably wouldn't have been able to do this alone.

Hermione, he now believed, was not all as bad as he thought she was. For years all he had seen her as was a stuck-up, know-it-all. He hated her because she was Potter's friend, and Potter was a swine. A good for nothing 'celebrity' who used a measly scar to get special treatment. Now he realised how stupid he had been. He was an immature school boy, but now he considered himself a man. He realised It was ridiculous to hate Harry Potter, he realised he had been jealous. Jealous of a boy who was famous for killing Voldemort, the reason his parents were criminals.

He didn't care about any of that anymore. It was irrelevant hatred, and he regretted it.

When they finished the kitchen, the cleaned the sitting room, the bathroom and his bedroom. They cleaned the whole apartment, and Hermione washed everything that could be washed in the washing machine- the cushion covers, the curtain, his bed-sheets, the towels, his clothes, they all smelled like vanilla and violets now. Draco couldn't have thanked her enough.

Hermione beamed at him when they finished.

"WE did it!" she laughed, he laughed too, almost forgetting himself.

"Yes we did! We actually did!"

They collapsed onto the now tidy couch, absent of bottles and food wrappers.

"So…" he trailed off, "Can we start the plan to help me change, for real?"

She looked into his pale gray eyes, eyes that had looked at her despisingly for years. But all she saw was gratitude and hope.

"We've already started, Draco." She told him. "And it's already working."

He smiled a small smile that barley hung on his lips at all, and Hermione's heart swelled.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Hermione rolled her eyes, her brown curly hair was glowing under the pale kitchen light, Ron stood across from her, ticking off all the things on his fingers that Draco Malfoy _was_.

He was sarcastic, he was rude, he was an _absolute arshole_. He was arrogant and sneaky and a cold blooded killer.

These, apparently, were just a few of the reasons why Hermione should not continue interacting with him. She thought the last one was a bit more than exaggeration. He had never actually killed anyone.

"He's changed, he _is _different Ron. He wants to be a new man." She told him firmly, feeling like this was the millionth time she said it.

The night time sky hung like a pantomime background outside the windows of the burrow, darkness that leaned against the small, brown framed windows, pressing itself against the glass like it was trying to hear their conversation. She had apparated back from Draco's apartment to find Ron waiting for her, looking for an explanation as to why his girlfriend had left him alone all day.

She hadn't lied to him about where she had been, she thought he would understand and support her.

She hadn't lied to him, even though there was a small part of her brain, a part that she regularly ignored, telling her it was a bad idea for Ron to know she had spent the whole day having fun and enjoying the company of his darkest enemy.

"Hermione this isn't another experiment for you! He's not something you can take and – and _fix_." Ron spat, "He's _never _going to change. He can try, I suppose, but he'll always be a Malfoy. And you're always going to be to kind and loving to see that you can't change that. You can't fix what he's spent all his life trying to prefect."

Hermione raised her eyebrows in indignation.

"Oh for Merlin's sake Ron! Don't be so bloody narrow minded! Of _course_ he can change! If he wants too he can! And if I want to help him that is my decision!"

Ron scowled and moved towards her. Hermione leaned back against the counter, her hands either side of her hips; she looked straight into Ron's blue eyes.

"He can change if he wants. But I don't want you involved, at all. Hermione he's going to hurt you, and I'm not allowing that. I can't ever see you hurt again. I _promised _myself I wouldn't let that happen." he told her quietly, running his fingers gently down her arm, the arm that lay scarred under the pale pink sleeve covering it. _Mudblood, _an inscription that would linger on her delicate skin forever_. _

Hermione's brown eyes fluttered up and searched his face, his eyes… eyes that were serious and sad and so full of love for the girl standing infront of him.

"You can't stop me Ron." She told him softly, needing him to understand she was serious, "He needs me, and he needs help. You however, need to stop living in the past." She pushed herself away from the countertop and walked past him.

"No way in hell am I letting this happen-"

"Ron you can't stop me! You can't control what I do!"  
"I can't just sit by and watch him hurt you Hermione! Don't you get it?! You are my fucking _everything!_ And he is nothing to me, nothing at all, just another asshole that needs to man up and take some responsibility for the way he chose to live his life! He _chose _to be a death eater!_ He chose it!_ And he chose Voldemort, right infront of us! And I don't fucking care Hermione, Merlin himself will come back from the dead before I let him anywhere near you again."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a three year old Ron! You don't get it do you? He had no choice in any of this! Even if he sometimes taught that he did, that if he chose it he could be different, he knew it wasn't possible. Because while Voldemort was in power _he would have been killed_ for taking our side!" Her voice was breaking; her face a blotchy pink and tears welled in her eyes.

Quietly she walked back towards him and took his large, rough hands in hers, holding them tight as she looked up at him.

"Ron… he has a _choice _now… and he's _choosing right_. He has a chance and he's taking it. Can't you accept that?" her voice was quiet, her eyes pleading for him to understand. He dropped her hands.

"I'm _not _choosing to see you get hurt." He told her, looking away.

Fury boiled in Hermione, she loved him, she did, but he needed to understand she could look after herself.

"Ron what exactly is it you think he's planning to do to me?!" she demanded, trying and failing to make eye contact with her boyfriend.

He walked around her, making his way towards the kitchen door with his head down, floppy red hair falling in his eyes.

"He'll hurt you 'Mione. He'll let you think you're helping him and then h-he'll break you. I know him. And I-I… I forbid you from seeing him."

"You _what?!_"

But Ron was walking away from her now, and she followed him out the door into the hallway.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley! Turn back around and talk to me!" she called as he started up the stairs.

"I'm going to bed Hermione, I love you."

Her stomach twisted.

"Oh whatever Ron, go sulk then."  
He didn't look back at her.

Hermione felt like collapsing. Arguing with Ron always did this to her, it drained her.

He always did this, argue and scream and fight and then, when it got too much, he would walk away and leave, and she would be left alone feeling like scum and thinking that maybe she _had_ been in the wrong. But no, this time she was not going to apologize, _she wasn't wrong._

She collapsed at the foot of the stairs, leaning her head against the wall as tears streamed like train tracks down her face quietly. She wasn't wrong. Draco was changing and she knew it. How dare Ron forbid her to see him!

"Hermione?" she looked up and met Harry's green eyes looking down at her with worry.

Harry and Ginny were a proper couple now. They were house hunting, and they were staying at the Burrow until they could find somewhere to move in together. Hermione was genuinely delighted for them - they deserved it, to be happy together.

"Hermione are you okay?" Harry squatted down, bending his knees as he squished in beside her on the narrow steps of the stairs, which groaned under the weight of the two of them.

She sighed, scrubbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper.

"It's Ron." She mumbled.

Harry nodded slowly, deciding it was best not to tell her that he, and probably the whole house, had heard quite clearly their whole argument.

"He doesn't understand Harry, and he's not even trying to."  
"About Malfoy?"

"Yes, he _is_ going to be different from now on and I'm trying to help him Harry, to help people start accepting him. How can I do that if my own boyfriend won't even hear me out?"

"He'll come around." Harry said quietly.

She leaned her head over on his shoulder, so glad all of a sudden that he was here, that he was listening. A surge of affection came over her for her best friend, who she considered her brother. He had been through so much, but he had always been there for _her_ throughout everything _she_ went through.

Her thoughts drifted back to the night in their fourth year, when Harry had sat in this exact position with her, but on a cold staircase in Hogwarts. She had cried on his shoulder and Harry had understood, without her even having to tell him, that it was because she was in love with Ron. He knew it hurt her to see him with Lavender. She had been so glad to have him there with her then, to hold her as she hurt.

She sniffled, ridding her brain of the painful memory of how she felt that night that seemed like a lifetime ago, but that was as vivid as if it happened last week. 

"Do you believe me then, that he can change?" She whispered.  
Harry sighed, running his hands up and down on the legs of his dark blue denim jeans.

"I – well you know I'll always support you, right? But I don't know Hermione, I really don't. I mean, sure he mightn't want anything to do with the dark side anymore, but he really does love being bad. It's what he's good at. He loves making snide comments and thinking he's better than everyone else and I don't know if he can change his genetic makeup, it's built into him to be an arse."  
Hermione sighed, getting sick of everyone telling her this.

"Doesn't the fact that he wants to be different count for anything? The fact he wants to be good, to be fair and civil and make a life for himself? Doesn't that in itself show that he has the capability to do it? Because I think it does."

Harry smiled at her softly through the dark.

"I think you have an amazing ability to always see the best in people Hermione, and that's not a bad thing. I know you can take care of yourself. You've spent the past eight years taking care of yourself, and me, _and Ron_. He knows you can do it too Hermione, he just doesn't want you in any danger at all. That night… in Malfoy manor when we were trapped in the cellar and you... you were screaming, Hermione he nearly went _insane_. We both did. I thought he was going to go mad, I really did. I've never seen him so bad, not ever. It killed him."

Tears slipped down Hermione face, and Harry reached up and brushed them off with his rough thumb.

"I l-love him Harry. But I have to do this. He asked for help and I know it inside of me that he isn't all bad, or going to hurt me. Ron will just have to deal with that fact."

"Okay Hermione." Harry whispered, kissing her softly on the side of the head.

"Come on, I'll take you up to bed."  
"No Harry I don't think he wants me near him right now." She whispered.

"Sleep in beside Ginny then, I'll transfigure the couch for me."  
"Harry no it's-"

"Fine. I know it is. Come on Hermione I slept under a stairs for eleven years I think I can deal with a comfortable, squishy couch bed."

She smiled at him gratefully as they stood up.

"Thank you Harry."

"No problem."

She climbed into Ginny's warm double bed a couple of minutes later, sighing as her head hit the pillow.

"Harry?" Ginny murmured, reaching over to Hermione's side.

"No Ginny its Hermione. Get off!" she whisper shouted as Ginny reached for her arms and started snuggling it.

"Sorry Her-mi-own." Ginny mumbled, rolling over.

Hermione laughed quietly, she was so exhausted. She didn't fall asleep until the sun began to slowly rise. She stayed awake worrying, dreading telling Ron what she had decided to do. She knew she would have to tell him tomorrow. She had planned to tell him when she got back from Draco's apartment, but things had just spiralled out of control and there was never a chance to say it.

When Ginny woke up the next morning, and noticed a sleeping brown haired witch beside her, she promptly whacked Hermione in the face with a pillow.

"Ahrrrgghh!" Hermione spluttered, "What the hell Gin?"

Ginny chuckled.

"Where is my boyfriend and what have you done to him?"  
"Your boyfriend is downstairs, asleep, and he is perfectly fine apart from the fact he has a psychotic girlfriend!" Hermione murmured, rolling over angrily and pulling the pillow over her head.

Ginny laughed.

"Come on Hermione wakeee uppp! Mum made us breakfast. I can smell it." Ginny sniffed the air appreciatively.

"You've got a nose on you like a niffler." Hermione grumbled, annoyed at the sunlight and the lack of darkness and the damn _birds _chirping cheerily outside Ginny's window. Her head hurt.

"You'd swear you were after being on the Firewhiskey by the look of you!" Ginny giggled.

Hermione swatted her away, not wanting to explain that the real reason she was up half the night was because she was fighting with her brother.

"I'll meet you down stairs, _la belle au bois dormant!_" Ginny smiled, using a phrase she had picked up from Fleur.

Hermione groaned, dragging herself out of bed and tiptoeing in bare feet to the bright, happy looking bathroom for a quick shower.

Ron was at the table when she entered the kitchen. He was reading the Daily Prophet and spooning cereal into his mouth messily. She smiled at the sight, it reminder her of the countless mornings they had eaten breakfast together in Hogwarts and she had scolded him for dribbling on his uniform. Hogwarts. She swallowed deeply.

Harry was sitting across from Ron, talking animatedly to Ginny about something involving Quidditch. Molly Weasley was the only person that noticed Hermione's arrival, and she greeted her with a smile.

"Have some toast dear. There are sausages in the pan." Molly told her.

Hermione sat down beside Ron, her hands shaking.

She reached for some toast. Was now a good time to tell him, to tell them all?

"I've decided to go back to Hogwarts."

Whether it was a good time or not, now it was out; hanging like a ghost in the air between them. She had blurted it, four heads turned towards her and her cheeks reddened.

"I think it is the best thing for me right now. I can get my NEWTS done, and then pursue whatever career I decide."

Ron put down his newspaper.

"You are really going back, on your own?"

If she was honest she was disappointed Ron didn't already guess that this would be something she'd want. Maybe she should have talked more with him about it.

"I won't be alone Ron, I'll be in Ginny's year now. And some other people from our year are going back too."

Harry grinned hugely at her.

"That's brilliant! Ginny you'll have Hermione to keep you company!" he beamed. Hermione guessed he was probably happier that Ginny would have her so that she wouldn't be spending as much time with all of her other guy friends. He still had a grudge against Michael Corner.

"It's great news Hermione." Ginny smiled.

Hermione returned the smile.

"I don't know." Ron began, "Harry and me have interviews at the ministry on Tuesday and then we are starting Auror training. I'll hardly see you at all if you go to Hogwarts."  
"Well I think it's a splendid idea, Hermione dear. You're education is important." Molly chirped.

"So is our relationship." Ron said lowly, annoyed.

"Ron I've been in contact with Professor McGonagall, and she said I can go home at the weekends. We can get an apartment together in London, maybe, and I'll see you every weekend. Maybe we can get somewhere near Harry and Ginny-"

"Or somewhere near Malfoy? So you can keep going at your little 'experiment'?"

Hermione's cheeks reddened, and she looked down at her fingers, counting to ten slowly so she wouldn't loose her temper.

Everyone's eyes were on them now; she looked up at Ron to see he looked sorry, obviously regretting his choice of words.

"I don't care whether or not it is close or far away from Draco Malfoy, Ron. As a matter of fact, I'll be seeing quite enough of him as it is. He's returning to finish school at Hogwarts too."

Harry spluttered tea down his front. Ron looked outraged.

"He's going back too?!"

"Yes Ron he is, does it matter?"

"Of course it matters!"

"I don't see why it woul-"

"Because it _fucking does!"_

"_Ronald Weasley watch your mouth!_" Molly scolded him.

"Whatever Hermione." Ron was only talking to her, his lips downturned in a stubborn frown, "You didn't even bother to discuss this with me!" he pushed himself away from the table, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. He grabbed his broomstick aggressively from beside the door and stormed out into the sunshine filled day.

_That's it Ron, walk away_, Hermione thought, then immediately felt bad for thinking such mean things about him.

But _honestly!_ She had just told him about a decision that was bound to make both of their futures brighter, more secure. She had just proposed that they should move in together, and he hadn't reacted in a positive way at all! Somewhere deep inside she had expected it, because she was really going to miss him too. Hogwarts just wouldn't be the same without him and Harry, but it still hurt her that he couldn't at least act like he was proud of her.

She looked around the table to see Molly smile at her, tears brimming in her eyes. Hermione wondered were they tears of joy, of pride, or were they tears of grief. She swallowed. Harry was looking out the window after Ron, a worried expression in his green eyes as his hands rested behind his head, fingers pulling at his black messy hair. Ginny was standing up; she walked around the table and sat in Ron's recently vacated seat.

"I think its really great Hermione." She told her, pulling her into a gently but tight hug. Hermione hugged her back, absently wondering why the tears had vanished from her eyes as quickly as they had arrived. Maybe she was just all cried out.

xxxxxxx

Draco Malfoy awoke at exactly eight o'clock on the morning after Hermione had helped him clean his apparent. He woke up smiling, his head buried in the violet and vanilla scented clean pillowcase. He woke up with hope in his heart. It didn't matter that he absolutely _annihilated_ the bones in his toe when he smashed it into the doorframe, and leapt around the floor howling.

It didn't matter that his blond hair wasn't perfect and he had to wash it. It didn't matter that the shower was broken and he didn't know the spell to fix it. It would only send cold, icy water slicing down onto his pale skin. He sang in the shower, and he sang loud.

Nobody could hear him, and even if they could Draco didn't think he would give a damn. He didn't care if people knew he was happy. Because he _was happy_, for the first time in what seemed like forever. And even if he wanted to he couldn't deny that the reason for his new found happiness was an annoying, frizzy haired witch with a tendency to drive him insane.

He wondered when he's see her again, the insufferable, amazing, funny, smart, kind and friendly witch. It struck him, all of a sudden like a tree hit with fork lightning, that he actually _longed_ to see Hermione again, he craved her company. This fact completely baffled him. And he really had no idea how, in a matter of days, she had become the most important person in his life.

**A/N:**

**Thank you so much to everyone who's reading.**

**Also, thanks to my reviewer****s: BringAttentionToTheMatter, HopeWithingDarkness, KatieLaughs, The Wall, everlastingtrueromance and to the Guest reviewer. It really means a lot that you took the time to give me some feedback! (:**


	4. Chapter Four

Thank you for reading my story.

Chapter Four

Hermione had visited Draco exactly four more times before today, which was the day before she was going to return to Hogwarts.

The first was the time they had cleaned his apartment together. The second and third times they ventured to Diagon Alley together to get school supplies and buy ice-cream. Hermione, on these trips, had started teaching him public manners. Draco had, of course, quite good manners already… just not when it came to talking to people in shops, or on streets. He had manners when it was someone he cared about.

The fourth time, she had arrived at his apartment unannounced and knocked on his door. It had been eight o'clock at night, and she had been expecting him to be home. He was as it turned out, home as expected. But he had answered the door angrily, wearing chequered green and black pyjama pants and a tight, black, sleeveless vest top. His face unshaven and his grey eyes dull with pain and anger. This was, indecently, unexpected. She had unknowingly, somehow, become accustomed to seeing his eyes light up when he looked at her, his new best friend.

Hermione remembered how she felt when he had swung open the blue door, paint peeling alomst metaphorically around the doorframe. She remembered how she had been beaming, then how her smile dropped when she met his eyes and realised something was wrong, really wrong. When he realised it was her at his door his eyes melted and calmed, and he had let her in without a word of protest.

Right now, sitting on her and Ron's neatly made bed in the Burrow; her thoughts transported her back to Draco's apartment…

It was darker than usual, that was the first thing she had noticed, and it smelled bad again. This time of alcohol and dampness, her eyes took in the bottles and empty cans that were strewn across the room, the heap of dirty laundry piled on the middle of the floor, the closed blinds, and the ripped pages of a book that lay discarded at the foot of his beautiful glass fronted bookcase.

Then her eyes took Draco in, noticing how _his_ eyes were dull and angry, sad and torn, but also distant, in a certain way. He was drunk, and he had been crying. His usually immaculate hair was greasy, tendrils of lightning white blond falling down almost to reach his tear stained cheeks - not swept back as it usually was, perfected with hair gel. Her eyes trailed his body, his exposed arms and collar bones, prominent even in the dark shadows of the apartment. He was so tall, and this was the most vulnerable she had ever seen him. He looked lost, and she longed to know what was paining him.

"Draco… what -?" but she didn't get to finish asking her question, and she wasn't sure what she would have asked anyway. What happened? What's wrong? What did you do? He cut her off.

"Hermione." He spoke her name softly, like it was the only word he knew how to form, like he had just been saved from drowning and she had been the one to pull him out of the crashing, life consuming waves. He spoke her name and that was all. He stepped towards her, and she stepped towards him, and she took him in her arms and held him tightly and he was just tall enough that he could rest his chin on her head and breathe in her scent. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she hugged him, because he needed it. She hugged him because he was frail and drunk and needed a friend to hold, even if she wasn't sure why just yet. He didn't pull away for a while, and they started to sway, almost like dancing, but for Hermione, she felt more like she was rocking a baby to sleep.

She was rocking Draco Malfoy, who the hell would ever have guessed it? They swayed for a while, and it felt like music was playing. Her hand somehow found his hand and his other hand found her waist and they slow danced, her head pressed against his heart and his head flopped forwards so it rested on hers. It wasn't wrong. It wasn't bad. It wasn't forbidden. But it was scarily okay, and Hermione found herself hoping Draco wouldn't pull away for just a little while longer so she could live, for a small eternity, in the perfect somewhere that he had taken her as they silently swayed, together, yes, but not the same people. Yet together, all the same.

When he finally straightened up, and his head lifted from hers and her head removed itself from his chest she looked up into his eyes.

"I was listening to your heart." She whispered, realising it probably was an extremely weird thing to say. He nodded, pink lips set in a frown,

"I can tell you now." He said, still nodding. His statement was odd, and she wondered what he meant by it.

"What do you mean you can-?"

But he dropped her hands, walking over to the bookshelf and picking up the torn book lying on the floor.

He walked back over to her; head bowed, and handed it to her.

"It- it was my favourite." His voice cracked. She took the book, and he walked over to the couch, slumped down and rested his head in his hands.

She turned the book over in her hands, read the title on the front cover – The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, by Mark Twain.

She looked up at him, the blond, tough boy who sat with his head in his hands and she frowned, not believing it. Huckleberry Finn was Draco Malfoy's favourite book? Hardly. Not only was it extremely not his type at all, but it was a muggle book.

She walked over and sat beside him, gently she placed the book on his left knee.

"I can fix it if you like?"

He didn't answer her, he just kept talking, talking his worries to her as if the fact that she was listening was a healing potion for him.

"He came over yesterday, my father. I didn't know he was coming."

Hermione frowned, waiting for him to continue.

"He arrived at two, my mother wasn't with him. I never wanted him anywhere near my apartment Hermione; I never told him my new address. I never told him. I never told _anyone_ … 'cept my mother. I guess he got her to talk." His voice was rough, he spat out the last sentence with hatred, vigour. "He wasn't a happy man; he said one of his fucking cronies saw you and me in Diagon Ally. He said I was furthermore disgracing the honourable name of Malfoy, a name that had been dragged through the dirt enough lately without making it a name associated with mudbloods as well. I told him to get the fuck out, that I could do what I wanted to do."

Hermione's breath hitched, so _she_ had been the cause of his pain, but Draco continued.

"He told me I would do what was expected of me, and that I would either finish my dealings with you or else be disowned from the family. I- I told him that I, that I had, that I was…." A tear fell onto his pale cheek. "I told him I wasn't going to stop seeing you Hermione and that he could do what he wanted. I didn't even fucking care Hermione I just wanted him gone. But he wanted more; he wanted to make me feel like shit."

He drew a ragged breath, and Hermione took his hand, squeezing it tightly in her small one.

"Draco… what happened?"

"He hit me, not that I _cared_. I'm used to it. It didn't hurt. But it fucking hurts _her _Hermione, my mother, when he hits her every night. He fucking tortures her. And now I'll never be able to do anything about it because I'm officially disowned. I can't enter Malfoy manor anymore and she can't leave without his permission."

Hermione frowned, putting the puzzle pieces together of what the drunken man beside her was saying. His mother was being beaten by his father, daily. His mother was powerless, and he, Draco, was disowned. _Because of her_.

It made her head positively swim in thoughts; she didn't have a clue what to say.  
"Draco… I'm so sorry. I can help you."  
"Y-you can?" he whispered, not even asking her how, which was good because this time, she wasn't sure.

"I will." She told him, and his head flopped into his hands again. She guessed he was crying, and she let him cry privately.

"What about this?" she asked quietly, nudging him gently with _Huckleberry Finn_.

"I did _that_." He said, referring to the shredded book, sounding embarrassed, almost.

"I was just so furious. When he left, I-I took it out to read, to calm myself down. My books were the one thing he never knew about, the one thing my mother and me kept secret. I have all kinds of books, muggle ones. She didn't care whether they were muggle or not, she used to read to me, because I get headaches when I read. My father would have flipped out if he knew, so every time I was really angry at him, or scared, I would dissapeered into in my bedroom and stare at a story written by someone my father hated, for no reason, and the fact I owned something he despised so thoroughly, it always calmed me down. I loved it - the thrill of disobeying him in a way he would never, ever realise. I was holding it in my hands Hermione, and he had left and I was going to just sit down and try reading it but I couldn'_t_ – I _couldn't_. The words were jumbling on the page, like they always do. I can't read books properly - I can _read _of course, just not books… It's so stupid. I was so mad. I just started ripping, and I couldn't stop. I didn't stop." He looked up at her, his eyes wide as he tugged mindlessly on the hem of his shirt.

"I ruined it. I don't even really care."

She knew he cared.

"I never read it anyway." He mumbled.

She knew that wasn't the point.

"It's not like I was going to read it in the future." His eyes were down again.

She knew he liked having the book _anyway._

She didn't have a clue what to do with him, this boy that was so utterly, helplessly broken. All this new information, that he was scared of his father, that his mother, high and mighty Narcissa Malfoy, was treated like vermin by her high and mighty husband. She had never known any of this about him; she had never thought for a second that his life was so … hard.

She didn't know what to do, so she stood up.

Before Draco knew what was happening she had made, rather quickly with the help of her wand, two cups of steaming hot chocolate. She made a rather spectacular hot chocolate, even if she did say so herself.

She pushed it into his hands with a warm smile. She sat beside him, nestling herself into his side. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, fingers trailing down her arm. She took Huckleberry Finn from his hands, cast reparo on it, and opened it to the first page. With no idea what to say to Draco, she borrowed Mark Twain's words, and started to read.

"You don't know about me without you have read a book by the name of _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_; but that ain't no matter." She began, feeling him relax beside her.

They stayed like that for a while, hidden away from the world. The girl who lived for reading and the boy who read books to live. It was half an hour later when her eyes started drifting closed, and the words infront of her started to blur.

"It's okay Hermione. We can read more some other time." He whispered, his voice falling softly into her ear

"Okay… I better get going anyway." She mumbled, but she didn't sit up, she didn't want to. She wanted to fall asleep right where she was, which so happened to be on Draco Malfoy. But it didn't matter _where_ _she_ _was_, it mattered that she was so comfortable, and so sleepy.  
It wasn't like it was a happy situation or anything - Draco Malfoy, the tough Slytherin, had just spilled his heart out to her about his problems, problems that were bad, unhealthy and dark. But he wasn't Draco Malfoy the tough Slytherin anymore; he had become one of her closest friends.

It wasn't as if she should want, or long even, to live in this moment longer than she was allowed to, but more and more lately she was finding that she wanted _more_ _time_ for her and Draco. She wanted more time for the imperfectness they shared between them every time they were together, especially in this moment of broken emotions. It wasn't perfect, he was distraught and she was heartbroken for him, but she had calmed him, had soothed him.

It wasn't perfect, every little thing she did with Draco wasn't perfect - in any way, yet everything overall was so exactly perfect it was scary. Whatever they did, whatever they talked about, everything was so wrongly right and intensely _proper_.

But everything perfect ends comes to an end sometime, and right now it was time for her to go home.

She sat up, and Draco groaned.

"You really leaving then?" his voice was dry, croaky from not talking in a while.

"I wasn't lying when I said I have to go, Draco." She smiled warmly at him, he seemed to be sobering up – which may or may not have had to do with the sobering potion she added to his tea.

"Hermione, I shouldn't have put all that shit on you like that, it wasn't fair to tell you all my problems, and it isn't right. You don't need to be involved."

"I told you I would help you, and I will." She told him, and his eyes widened.

"You really are … amazing Hermione."  
She blushed.

"It's nothing, I want to help." She murmured.

"Thanks… for, uh, reading for me." Draco said, his face serious, pink tinged his cheeks. He was embarrassed, she realised, probably wondering how in the hell he had just admitted, to the biggest bookworm in the world, that he – Draco Malfoy – found it hard to read.

She walked towards the door, pulling on her coat.

"It was nothing Draco. I promise you I'll figure out someway to help your mother."

He blushed again, opening the door for her. But before she left, she wanted to know one more thing.

"You know when I got here first today, and we… we danced… and afterwards you told me you could tell me _now?_ What did you mean?"  
Then Draco Malfoy pulled a hat-trick, and blushed for the third time in a row.

"It was nothing... stupid really. Nonsense and unimportant." The words fluttered out under his breath.

She placed a hand on lightly on his chest, brown eyes gazing into his.

"Draco tell me, please?"  
He frowned, looking down.

"Well… It's so stupid… I was debating, internally, whether or not to tell you about my all that shit I told you. I figured you wouldn't want to know, I figured you probably though I had no heart, no emotions, no feelings. For a while there _I_ didn't know if I had a heart anymore, everything just felt numb, until you came over. I guess, when you told me you were listening to my heart, it, well… it reassured me that you were different, that you actually cared - and saw me as more than just a useless death eater." Her fingers trailed softly down the dark mark on his pale forearm, leaving his arm tingling. He was so much more, so much _better_ than that. His eyes finally lifted from his feet, meeting hers.

"You reminded me, Hermione, that I actually do have a heart."

It had been a week ago now, and she had spent most of the last week researching the binding that wives have to their husbands in pureblood marriages, which were unlike other marriages. They had rules, rituals, binding spells, spells Hermione was researching how to break. She felt a special need to help Narcissa.

She hadn't discussed going back to Hogwarts with Ron. She admitted to herself that she should have, that it was a mistake not to.

Now, she was leaving tomorrow and she still hadn't discussed it with him.

The last couple of weeks, they had both avoided the subject like the plague. Ron had been pleasant and lovely and everything was exactly as it should be between two very in love people. Everything, that is, except the fact that on the evening she announced her plan to return to Hogwarts, Ron had told Hermione that he never wanted her to bring up Draco Malfoy while she was around him again.

She hadn't thought this was a necessary request, or a decent one. But for the sake of her boyfriend, she had agreed to it. She hadn't talked about Draco since. Her visits to him were a silently forbidden topic - and this was a fact that Hermione deeply despised. She felt like not telling Ron about it made it something dirty, something secret. It wasn't as if she and Draco were doing anything wrong, but Ron acted like the words Draco Malfoy were a filthy curse. It felt so wrong not telling Ron everything that was going on in her head, it was like a mental block between them, she had always told Ron practically everything that went on in her head, but now she couldn't.

She had spent most of the day packing for Hogwarts. She didn't need much; she would be back home next weekend anyway. Ron had agreed to go apartment hunting in London with her, which was bound to be fun. She wanted her own house, and she wanted to be back in the routine of school, the thought of routine, of studying again -and of Hogwarts library – it made her so happy.

But then she remembered that Ron and Harry weren't going to be there, and she was hit with a wave of depression and distress.

Hogwarts was what she was looking forward to, but _would_ it be Hogwarts really? Would it be Hogwarts without her two best friends in the world, without being enemies with Draco, without hearing Dumbledore saying some odd and wonderful words of advice or humour at the start of year feast? Would it be Hogwarts without cheering Harry on at the Gryffindor Quidditch matches until her voice was hoarse and drinking Butterbeer in The Three Broomsticks on cold, snowy Hogsmead weekends?

It _wouldn't_ be Hogwarts without the midnight chats the three of them shared, in the squishy common room chairs, falling asleep in front of the fire and Harry prodding her awake so she could creep into her dorm and fall into bed. It _wouldn't_ be Hogwarts without laughing, their laughs turning to fog infront of their lips at some stupid thing Ron said, as they ventured through a misty Saturday morning to visit Hagrid, or without Ron wolfing down his dinner every evening in the great hall. Or without the two boys making her share her potions notes, or without letting them copy her charms essay. Tears slipped down her cheeks._ It wouldn't be Hogwarts._

Ron appeared around the door, his red hair falling softly just under his eyebrows. He noticed she was crying, and he was straight over to her.

"Mione what's the matter? Don't cry, tell me."  
She shrugged, her shoulders shaking.

"It isn't ever going to be the same Ron; I want it back how it was. I want Hogwarts back the way it was! I want you and I want Harry and I want my voice to get hoarse at the Quidditch matches and to for you to annoy me and copy my essays and I want to go _back_."

Ron wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him and rocking her.

"It's going to be different Mi. Believe me I want to go back, I miss it too. It's going to be different but that doesn't mean it can't be good, does it? We can look back at our time together in Hogwarts and realise that no one can ever change that, no one can take away our amazing memories, or the fact that I only passed potions most of the time because I copied your essays. It's never going to change, our memories, but now… now you get to make new ones. And we, _us_, we can make new ones together too."

She looked into his blue eyes and fell in love all over again.

"Ronald Weasley, you seem to find ways to make me fall in love with you more and more everyday."

He beamed at her, proud that he had cheered her up. She smiled back at him, her heart glowing. He was right, she would miss the old Hogwarts like hell, but she could still have a good time now.

Then he kissed her, and right nothing would have mattered anyway because he was kissing her, and she loved him. Tomorrow, she would go, for the last time, on the scarlet Hogwarts express, and for the first time - since the bizarre car flying act in second year – without her two best friends. But it would be okay, she knew it would. Everything would wok out, somehow.

**A/N: Thank you to my two new reviewers, LUNA GURLZ and Mercedes, I really, really do appreciate the feedback, so thanks a lot! Also, wow… thank you so much to everyone who favourited and followed. I wasn't really expecting anyone too do that but it's so cool that you did so thanks again (: Sorry that this is a bit later updated than usual. Thank you for reading though**!


	5. Chapter Five

**Thank you for reading my story.**

**Chapter 5**

Hermione ran her pale fingers through her curled brown hair, scrutinizing her appearance in the mirror. She never did believe, or think, that she was beautiful - but she tried to at least look respectable on a daily basis.

It was half ten on September 1st, and she was ready.

In approximately one minute and seventeen seconds, Ron would enter the room and tell her it was time to leave for King's Cross.

In five minutes and fifty three seconds, she would be sitting across from him in the front of their new car, driving away from the Burrow with every breath, and closer to Hogwarts with every heartbeat.

In exactly thirty minutes, she would be sitting on a faded red train seat, across from a different man. A tall, narrow faced man with blond hair swept across his forehead.

In one hour and two minutes, she would be far too excited about her return to Hogwarts to remember how Ron's face had practically shattered when she whispered goodbye in his ear, and delicately brushed her pale pink lips over his. Or how his eyes had followed her every step she took until she vanished - not to be held in his arms again for a whole week - into the scarlet train.

He knew she would be okay. She was, after all, Hermione Granger. There was no doubt that she wouldn't be okay. But a part of Ron ached, and he really hoped, he really tried to believe, that she would miss him as much as he already missed her. He was missing her before she had even left.

She fixed her hair and smiled, brown eyes gleaming with anticipation. She hid her fears; she hid the proof of the many sleepless nights she'd been having, proof that hung under her eyes, under a light layer of foundation.

She was ready when Ron entered the room, when he told her she looked beautiful and she didn't believe him. When he told her it was time to go, she wondered why he sounded like he knew something she did not.

Draco ran a hand roughly through his wavy blond hair, tousling it up a bit so it was less flat against his pale skin, and more of a blond wavy mess. It wasn't his usual style - on a normal school day he had always styled it sleek and flat, with an abundance of greasy hair gel. But he just didn't like that look anymore. Recently he had taken to just letting his hair go its own way.

He wondered why he was so happy to be going back to Hogwarts, never had he been this happy about it before. Maybe it was the fact that his father would not be able to set foot in the castle, or find him. Maybe it was the fact he could truly start to prove to everyone that he was different now. Or maybe, but this was the least possible option, it was the fact he would be seeing Hermione on a day to day basis again. He wasn't sure. He checked the time on his silver wrist watch – 10.42 – and decided he better get a move on if he was going to make the train.

The wind danced into her hair through the rolled down truck window, tossing it about and doing pretty things with it. Ron was grimacing beside her, his hands tight on the steering wheel. She reached a hand over and placed it on his knee.

"Ron?"

"What?"

"I love you, you know that right?"  
"I love you too."  
The music from the muggle radio station blared through the car, and Ron rolled his window down too, as they drove fast.

Hermione loved the song playing; it was one of her favourites. A good omen, some might say. But she didn't sing along as she usually did, she was too nervous. Ron quietly wished that she would sing. He loved when she sang, and he was going to miss hearing her voice for the next week.

Draco walked down the busy street, avoiding eye contact with the muggles he encountered. He was almost at King's Cross now, a fact he was thankful for, because he trunk was heavy and his heals were sore. He wondered when Hermione would arrive. He knew Ron was going to drive her in; they weren't apparating because they had recently bought a car together, and Ron wanted to try it out. He wondered what kind of car it was, he hadn't thought to ask Hermione.

Ron pulled into King's Cross at 10.53, Hermione chuckled behind her hair as he parked the car crookedly, and she helped as he hauled her trunk from the back.

"Merlin Hermione, if you're coming home this weekend why the bloody hell is you're trunk so heavy?"

She smiled at him, a crooked smile that began at the corners of her lips and made her face glow. It was _her_ smile, the smile he had subconsciously memorized, the smile he adored, the smile that made him fall in love so unconditionally with her.

"I need reading material Ron. I only brought a _few_ extra books, that's all." She told him as they made their way into the station. He smiled back, rolling his eyes. Knowing Hermione she would go through the multitude if books in her trunk by Friday, as well as re-reading half of Hogwarts library.

Harry and Ginny were apparating to platform 9 and ¾ to meet them.

Hands joined, they ran through the familiar old brick wall and emerged onto the platform. Hermione's face broke into a huge, uncontrollable smile as memories flooded back to her. She looked at Ron and her joyful moment faltered as she took in his face, which looked absolutely terrified.

When he saw her looking at him, he tried to feign the same kind of emotion he saw on her face, but it was too late. She had noticed the pain that etched itself upon her boyfriend's facial features for that brief moment and there was no hiding it now. But Ron knew she would never guess why he was so scared, and he would never tell her.

He wasn't even one hundred percent sure of the reason himself.

"Harry!" He heard her first - heard her happy, melodic voice cutting through the crowd of noise. He heard her above the rumble and chiming wave of voices that was washing into the train through the open window. He hauled his luggage up onto the rack in an empty train compartment. When his trunk was secure, he seated himself next to the open window and tried to pretend to himself that he wasn't in actual danger of bursting if he looked out and wasn't able to find the owner of the voice - Hermione.

He didn't burst. He did however; find himself short of breath as his anxiously searching grey eyes found her.

She was dressed in a blue knee length dress, with a dark blue cardigan, and her hair was falling down her back in soft curls. Her eyes were closed as her arms enveloped the man he had hated - throughout his whole school life - in a hug, the man he loathed for six years solid. The man he now thoroughly disliked for a whole other reason. _Let her go._

Harry's arms closed around her waist as he hugged his best friend back.

"I've missed you too 'Mione." He laughed, pulling away from her to see a beaming smile on her face. It had only been two weeks since she had last seen Harry and Ginny but it felt like a lifetime.

"How's it going mate?" Ron asked Harry as Hermione moved on to hug Ginny with just as much vigour.

"Good, we've been good. Merlin Ron I'm going to miss her like crazy. Both of them."

"It's only a week, after all." Ron reminded Harry, and himself.

"Yeah. A week. I wouldn't mind going back with them though."

Ron didn't answer him. He would give anything to be travelling back with his best friends to Hogwarts today, anything _but_ the interview he had in the Ministry of Magic next Wednesday morning. The interview he would be going to with Harry, the first step towards becoming an Auror.

Two minutes and fifty nine seconds later and he was hugging his best friend, his girlfriend -his everything- goodbye. Her small arms enclosed him in a vanilla scented hug and held him tightly.

"I love you Ron. See you soon." Her voice drifted past his ear like a ghost, a sentence whispered and caught by his ear, for him alone to hear. She pulled back and looked up into his sea blue eyes. "I love you too Hermione." He whispered.

And when her pale pink lips pressed gently to his, right then, when Hermione kissed her boyfriend and hoped she put enough into the kiss for him to realise she would miss him – that's when Draco Malfoy's anxious eyes tore away from the beautifully tragic farewell scene that belonged in an Austen novel. That's when his eyes ripped away from Hermione's tall figure that stood in her boyfriend's embrace on platform 9 and ¾. He looked away because what Hermione was doing was private; it wasn't his to invade upon. That was what he wanted to believe.

He longed and hoped with himself to believe that _that_ was the reason he looked away, and _not_ the fact that he couldn't look at Hermione kissing Ron because it felt like a pack of werewolves had started ripping out his intestines with their sharp blooded teeth. He had no reason to feel like that, and he fucking despised himself for feeling it.

Ron watched her walk away with Ginny by her side, fiery red hair in a long plait down her back. Harry stood beside him, his green eyes smiling with absolute adoration for Ginny, and Ron was thankful for the fact his sister had someone like Harry.

"Fancy driving back with me Harry?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"Okay." Harry replied. Then the two men walked out of Kings Cross, across the parking lot, and into Ron's car.

"Let's _not_try flying this one mate." Harry grinned. Ron laughed.

"That was one of our best moments that was, flying Dad's car."

"We had no bloody idea then that we'd end up here, did we?" Harry looked out the window.

"I had no idea back then if I'd make it until my sixteenth birthday." Ron laughed.

"So you've already surpassed your hopes and dreams then Ronald?" Harry raised an eyebrow

Ron started the car, grinning at his best friend. He had surpassed his hopes and dreams the first time Hermione ever told him she loved him.

He wondered if she would try finding his compartment, or if she would just want to sit with her old friends. He had seen Neville on the platform, and Seamus.

He kept on wondering where Hermione would sit right up until she arrived outside his door, alone, and slid it open.

"Draco! I've been looking around for you! Can I come in?"  
"If you want to." He grumbled, looking away from her intensely brown eyes.

She walked in and sat down beside him, her hair fanning out around her shoulders. He didn't look at her for a minute, and when he did, she asked him was he okay.

"I'm fine, Hermione. It's good to see you."

She sighed in relief, having wondered if maybe he would be back to hating her now they were back to Hogwarts, back to their old life. She had thought, for a moment, that Draco was back to being Malfoy, and that she was back to being Granger.

"It's good to see you too." She told him. And it was, she didn't know if she would have been okay with going back to being _just Granger_, and she knew she couldn't deal with him being Malfoy again, she would miss Draco far too much.

He didn't want to look at her, because he had realised when he looked at her on the platform that looking at her, that seeing her, being near her even, it physically hurt him in the most beautifully addicting way possible. He didn't know how to explain it other than that. #

She had become his best friend and she had become his savour. She dragged him back up when he had started to slip under and she made him hold his head high, she had started research to help his mother and she had fixed his broken book.

But now he looked at her and it hurt, it pained, it made him want to lie down on a cold hard pavement and maybe just forget that he was anything, that he was anywhere. He

Looked at her and his heart ached because her heart was not his and her boyfriend had been kissing her moments ago. It hurt because she wasn't his, and she never would be.

It hurt because he had no fucking idea why the fuck he felt this way about her when he had all but wanted to commit her murder for seven years. It wasn't natural and it wasn't clean and it wasn't allowed and it _was not love_. It defiantly was not love.

He looked over at her, and a near apocalyptic pain began to take prisoner his whole being.

Sunlight spilled through the dried, rain-speckled glass of the train window, splashing her face with freckles and illuminating the delicate strands of gold that wove through her hair. Her eyes held him captive and he smiled through the pain, because somehow or another, her eyes made all the hurting stop.

When he smiled at her the sun came out, and she smiled back. Ginny had offered to come with Hermione to meet Draco, but Hermione could tell that she wanted to sit with Seamus, Neville and Parvati. She could tell that Ginny didn't give a toss about Draco because she didn't know him, the real, new him.

She beamed as she realised Ginny would get the chance to get to know the blond, messy haired boy sitting across from her over the next few weeks.

"I missed you." she told him, lightly. Examining his face, his hair, his eyes - she wondered why his grey eyes were widening.

She told him she missed him, and it was then that his eyes weren't his eyes anymore, it was then that he saw through the eyes of the freezing, shaking man that was standing in the pouring rain. It was then that he saw through raindrops hanging on his eyelashes as he started running, running away from the girl in the grey trench coat as her footsteps crashed though rain filled puddles to reach him. And when she whirled him around, when her hands grabbed his forearms and she kissed him, in the middle of a thunder storm, with more passion than he had ever known - that's when he remembered.

_Remebered what?_

Then Hermione was infront of him again, and his eyes were his own, and he was thoroughly confused, as probably are you, the reader.

This was the first time Draco Malfoy had ever seen anything that wasn't in the present tense, and it was also the only time he would see anything of the sort until he _remembered_ again.

_What the bloody hell?_ He thought to himself.

Hermione moved over and kneeled infront of him.

"Draco? What – are you okay?"  
"I just… remembered something. I am … I am okay…. Now. Sorry. I-I don't know what happened. Yeah-no, I'm fine. I've m-missed you too."

His feeble attempt at convincing Hermione he was okay seemed, on the surface, to work.

She moved back to her previous position on the seat across from him as the train continued rolling through the brightly coloured fields and smoothly carved landscape of mountains.

They continued talking the whole way to Hogwarts, about nothing and everything. Draco didn't, however, forget about his – _vision?_ It was still vivid and striking in his mind, more so than any memory he had ever had or could remember.

It was as vivid as if it was happening to him _right now_, not in the past.

He wanted to ask Hermione about it, but it was far to embarrassing to admit he had no idea what had happened to him, and far to unbelievable of a thing for him to want to share it with her – she would think he was even more crazy and deluded than she already thought he was.

But he didn't stop thinking about what he had decided to call 'The Vision', but try as he might, he couldn't see the face of the girl in the gray coat.

Hermione wondered what had happened when Draco zoned out, because he seemed pretty shaken afterwards. She wanted to know but she didn't ask him.

She knew that for six years all he saw her as was a nosy know-it-all and she didn't want to pry. If he wanted to talk about it then he would, and she wouldn't pressure him.

If she was honest with herself she had craved his company for the last few weeks of his absence, and she was more than happy just to spend this time talking about nothing and enjoying the ride back to the castle she loved so much.

Draco talked with her, and he made her forget how much she missed her two best friends on the journey she hated taking without them.

Draco laughed. He laughed with Hermione a lot, and it still surprised him every time it happened. He wasn't used to laughing with friends and he wasn't used to feeling this happy with someone. Hermione made him forget that he had gone through six years of schooling without laughing once at something that was funny, or without anyone laughing with him.

She loved his laugh; she loved how he bent his head down when he laughed quietly, his blond hair falling infront of his eyes.

His eyes that would, in a few months, be blackened in a fist fight that would make her cry.

She loved how his lips pulled upwards in a honest, happy smile, and made his cheeks dimple. Cheeks that would be covered in tear stains and bruises in a couple of months as he cried himself quietly to sleep, alone.

She found herself admiring his big hands as he intertwined his pale fingers and listened to her talking.

His hands, hands that would be cut open and bleed at the knuckles as he would fall to the ground, gasping for air.

Hermione didn't know now that any of this was inevitably going to happen, or who would be involved, or when it would happen. Neither did Draco.

And neither one of them would have believed it was going to happen if they were told about it, because neither one of them anticipated what was to come in the next few months of their lives.

**A/N:**

**I am sorry I have not updated this story in so long. Everything was just really busy there for a while and 'There was no time!" – to quote one of my best friends.**

**Thank you so much to Carlie13, LUNA GURLZ, TheAppleMaster and SeptemberOwl853 for your reviews - they mean alot. Thanks also to all the people who followed and favourited.**

**I'm finished school for the summer now, so I can promise much more regular updates. This chapter was where the story really gets started. 'The Vision' is important – that's all I'm going to say.**

**Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, the next one will be up soon. Please give me some feedback and comment because it really motivates me and I'd love to hear you're opinion (:**

**Thank you so much for reading! It means a lot.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for reading my story.**

**Chapter Six**

Hermione wasn't sure what to expect when she would finally step back into the Entrance hall for the first time since Hogwarts had become a broken castle. Her breath caught in her throat as her feat walked through the huge oak front doors and she realised, it was if nothing had changed.

Her heart ached as she remembered one of the last times she had stood here.

_Flashback._

She was saying goodbye to her best friend. But it wasn't just any old goodbye. She knew it was going to be the last "Goodbye" she ever got to say to Harry. She hugged him, and his arms hugged her back and held her tightly to him.

It was as if she was his anchor, his last chance, last hope that he mightn't have to do this, that he mightn't have to leave. It was as if he didn't want to let her go, and she didn't want him to. Because as soon as his arms released her, he was going to walk to his death.

Walls crumbled around them, fire licked at the oak doors of the castle, beckoning with long, burnt, scarred fingers for Harry to walk away, to walk towards the flames and towards Death. To walk away from the two people who would never in their lives get over his absence.

When she hugged him, the reality of it all hit her like the killing curse. She hadn't noticed until that moment - that moment when his arms held onto her like she could keep him safe - that _everything_ was broken. She hadn't realised that the ground was strewn with bits of what used to be doors, or walls, or beautiful stained glass windows. She hadn't realised that the inanimate bodies lying around every corner were those of people she cared about. Her friends, her classmates. She hadn't realised that it was all about to end, until Harry whispered it in her ear.

"Goodbye, Hermione."

_NO! NO! Harry you can't NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! I love you Harry! I need you! You're my best friend! HARRY! _

She hadn't said any of that out loud, of course. Tears were streaming down her face in hot, quiet tracks. Everything was silent as his arms dropped away from her body and he was no longer hugging her.

She held onto him for a little bit longer. She held onto the hope he wasn't leaving them. But then he did. His quiet footsteps were the only noise she could hear as her heart stopped and her brain started screaming.

She didn't say it out loud because saying it out loud might make Harry cry. And whatever he was just about to do had been decided, had been predetermined. She couldn't mess that up. It was the hardest thing she ever had to do. Much worse than being tortured by Bellatrix. Her best friend was going to die, going to go to Voldemort and die, willingly.

And she couldn't do a damn thing about it.

Her jaw felt like it was cracking in half as she bit her lip fiercely, drawing blood. Her eardrums wanted to burst.

_Don't say anything! _She told herself over and over and over. Because saying she needed him, that he was so important, that he was her best friend, her brother - saying any of that would make it so much worse. Harry was going to do it either way. Her whole being was internally screaming to call out to him, to say anything to him to get him to turn around and walk back but she knew it was wrong.

Harry was walking a path that he could never turn back on; he would never turn back to her again. All she would do would be to make it so much harder for him to drag each painful foot in a step closer to his destiny.

Never would she look into his green eyes and see them smile again, or run to him and crash into a hug. Never would he sarcastically roll his eyes at her being a know-it-all again, or listen to her stupid problem when she cried. He'd never make another exciting plan with her or plot with her or walk in snow with her or_ talk_ to her or….

She wished it wasn't real. She wished she could do it for him. She cried and shook and her brain was screaming at her as Ron took her in his arms. She felt his tears in her hair and knew he was the only person that could ever understand. "Harry…" she whispered. But he was gone. The burning flames had swallowed him.

_End of Flashback._

Tears were welling in her eyes as she shook her head. Nothing. Nothing was different in the Entrance Hall. She saw flames and she saw dead bodies and the people around her gasped as they saw it too, the crumbling castle. But then it was all normal again. Pristine, perfect. She felt like she was in the pensive - walking back into a memory of her eleven year old self, the first time she had walked into Hogwarts and thought everything looked so perfect.  
Her head swam.

With Draco by her side for the first time ever, her feat crossed the Entrance Hall in a dreamlike state, and she entered the Great Hall with the rest of the school. Her heart swelled with emotion as she looked around at the glowing room.

Draco grinned as he watched her look around, her eyes glistening. He didn't really care about any of this – the castle, the way it all looked insanely unchanged. He didn't want to look around and remember all the past days he had in the school because his past days were not good days. His memories were tainted. But for her, he imagined this was quite a big deal – seeing the castle for the first time after the war. He couldn't read her face; he couldn't tell what emotion was making her hand grip his so tightly as they walked through the crowds. He didn't mind. When he got to the top of the Hall and she dropped his hand, he frowned. Now she would be going to sit with the Gryffindors and he with the Slytherins. He realised he was going to be divided from her quite a lot, because of their houses. For the first time ever Draco wished that everyone could sit together.

Hermione didn't want to leave his side, she didn't want to be divided once again by stereotypes and houses and _three tables_. But she could see Ginny pushing towards her through the crowd, wanting to reach her and sit together at the Gryffindor table.

Draco's eyes were away from her, he was refusing to look at her, again. Ginny reached them.

"Hermione c'mon, I'm starving." She grabbed her arm softly and began walking towards the Gryffindor table.

"Ginny what about Draco? None of his friends are back at Hogwarts; he has no one to-"

"I am a grown man, Hermione. I think I can survive sitting alone." Draco told her quietly, raising his eyebrows in indignation. He didn't want anyone to think he couldn't handle being alone, but his cheecks flushed pale pink at her words. She wanted to stay with him.

"What!? That's ridiculous you shouldn't _have_ too, Draco."

"Hermione…" Ginny whispered quietly, pulling at Hermione's sleeve. Practically everybody else was sitting down now, and watching them with greedy eyes. But Hermione doubted that the people watching them were the reason that Ginny wanted her to come quietly. Ginny wasn't the type of person to care about people watching her.

"But this is barbaric! People are dividing themselves... _again Ginny_… and the war is over! Why can't you all realise that!" she looked around at the people seated at house tables now.  
"Ginny the sorting hat has been saying it for years! Inter school division is not right. All we're doing is _eating_, so why do we have to separate? I'm sitting at the Slytherin table – let's see who'll stop me." Hermione's eyes held fire, passion, but she smiled, almost sadly, at Ginny to let her know that the argument wasn't aimed at her.

"D'you know what? You're right." Ginny nodded slowly. "Oi Seamus! Dean! I'm going to sit over here with Hermione!" the fiery red head yelled across the great hall, causing quite a stir amongst the onlookers.

Two Gryffindors and one Slytherin sat down at the Slytherin table, and Hermione was beaming.

"Well this is different!" she chirped.

Ginny looked slightly uncomfortable, she was scowling around at the Slytherins who were raising their eyebrows and glaring at the two new, and in some people's minds, unwelcome girls.

"What are you looking at?" She growled at a black haired boy with blue eyes who was looking at her like she was a member of a different species. The boy shook his head and turned back to his friends.

"The first years will be here soon." She told Hermione with a resigned smile, "I wonder what the Hat will sing about?"

Draco picked at loose skin beside his thumb nails, his hands on his knees underneath the table. _I'm different now, I'm better now, I'm good now._

He really hadn't been prepared for Hermione's sudden and very public show of affection towards him infront of people who… who he'd held a very high status among for the first six years of his schooling.

_Goddamn it Draco stop being so fucking self obsessed._

Surely Hermione's show of emotion wasn't towards him at all. She didn't choose to sit here because she couldn't bare to leave his side. She did it because she, Hermione Granger, was strong minded and independent. She wanted to break boundaries and start an inter-house revolution. Merlin she was so… ambitious.

She was sick of following along with ridiculous stereotyping and discrimination. She didn't think it was a good idea anymore, the division among houses. Sure, she could deal with the fact that people would each be sorted, and have their own house and dorms and colours and Quidditch teams. But it was simply evil - and way to much like blood discrimination - for people to not be allowed sit with their friends, or for it to be such a big deal when one person decides to switch seats at dinner.

The hall doors opened and Professor McGonagall entered wearing a dappled green dark, pointed hat and robes, and following behind her were a humungous group of terrified looking first years.

With knocking knees they walked up to the front of the hall, hundreds of eyes following them.

Professor McGonagall walked up to the golden owl podium, the place where Dumbledore had stood at every start of the year feast Hermione had ever been to. She smiled down at the students, the new Headmistress.

"Welcome, welcome back to you all. Another school year begins! I hope that each one of you will take advantage of that, and learn to the best of your individual ability. I shall expect no more, nor no less. Now, let the sorting commence!"

She lifted the sorting hat onto its stool and an eerie silence filtered among the students as they waited for the hat to being singing its annual song.

_I am a hat from years gone by,_

_But now I am wise and old._

_It's not so hard for me to tell,_

_My tale does make you bored._

_But listen close young minds and hearts,_

_For you're writing the next chapter,_

_Of Witchcraft and Wizardry in this school,_

_Great Legends you follow after._

_And now you're cold and hungry,_

_My song's a burden too,_

_But someday you'll be remembered,_

_For everything you do._

_Made was I but to divide,_

_But division should not be made,_

_Listen close, I'll tell you now,_

_Division caused this plague._

_Bold Salazar and Godric,_

_Were as close as close can be,_

_Whilst fair and just Rowena,_

_Lived with Helga in harmony._

_The war's been fought, and fair and true,_

_The rightful side did win,_

_But no war can ever be truly won,_

_Unless we unite together, from within._

_So once more I'll say it,_

_Please take head, unite as one,_

_And make yourselves all equals,_

_Then Hogwarts will have won._

Draco wondered how Hermione somehow knew everything. She couldn't have known that the sorting hat was going to sing about equality, she couldn't have known that when she decided to take the bold decision of being the first Gryffindor to ever sit at Slytherin's table. But she did it anyway, and – as usual – she was right.

Hermione positively beamed. The sorting hat couldn't have been more right, and if she needed one more reason to be _sure_ what she was about to suggest was right then that song was it.

Professor McGonagall called Allen, Orlaith to the stool to be sorted as Hermione began whispering her newly formulated idea to Draco and Ginny.

"I've had an idea," she said quietly, excited, "We should start a club! The Student United Campaign… Against Division…Or something like that anyway. What d'ya say? Any name ideas Ginny?"

Ginny adjusted herself on the bench and raised her eyebrows.

"Slow down Hermione, I mean, really? Another club? Remember how Spew went?"  
"S.P.E.W Ginny! And it was extremely successful!" She cast her a disdainful look, "The Students United Campaign would be successful too. Draco, what do you think?"

Ginny scoffed, Draco blushed.

"Yeah, erm, it could work."

"Carlton, Caitlin!" McGonagall called.

"Ha-ha! See Ginerva! One member already. Thank you Draco."

Ginny rolled her eyes.

A small girl with mousy brown waves of hair and freckles on her nose walked over to their table. Caitlin Carlton had just been sorted into Slytherin, and her huge eyes widened as she realised she would be forced to sit next to a sixth year. Hermione smiled kindly at her, and she sat down timidly.

"Starting tomorrow," she said, turning back to Draco and Ginny, "I'm going to advertise the first meeting of our club."

Draco bowed his head and grinned. She really was determined to change the world.

Dinner was, as always, magnificently delicious. However Hermione spent most of the time examining the staff table.

Professors Sprout, Trelawney, Hagrid, Slughorn, Binns, Flitwick and Vector had all returned to their former teaching posts. But Hermione was searching the table to see who would be their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. She wondered absently would it be someone new, but… _Wait… is that Fleur?!_

Hermione couldn't believe her eyes. Fleur Delacour was sitting beside Professor Flitwick, tossing her silvery silky hair over her shoulder as she laughed. Surely Hermione would have known if Fleur was going to be teaching at Hogwarts? But yet… there she was.

Fleur Delacour was their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Ginny, did you know Fleur was going to be a Professor?"

"_What!?" _Ginny dropped her fork and it made a clingy, metallic sound as it hit the floor under the table.

"She's sitting beside Professor Flitwick, look." Hermione pointed.

"Merlin you're right! Why weren't we informed of this?"

Hermione shook her head. With full bellies and tired heads, the students began to filter out of the hall. Fleur, however, never being one to slouch and shuffle along as Hermione and Ginny had started to do, positively glowed as she flounced over to them.

"Ginny! 'Ermione! Deed I surprize you? I deedn't want anybody to know I had been appointeed, a surprise I 'ope!"

Ginny laughed and hugged Fleur tightly.

"It's great Fleur! Brilliant really!"

Fleur beamed. "Eeet is so good to see you girls again!"

"You too Fleur." Hermione told her as Fleur embraced her in a tight hug, unexpectedly.

"Vell, I'll shall see you both tomorrow zen! I have seventh years third class, I theenk!" And then she was gone in a blur of silver and perfume.

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other and promptly burst in fits of laughter. It was, after all, quite strange to think that Fleur (Phlegm) would now be their teacher. But they both knew she would be an excellent one.

Hermione looked around suddenly and realised the absence of the blond haired boy. She spun around looking for him, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Ginny touched her arm, knowing what her eyes were searching for. Hermione felt the desperate need to locate him.

"He's probably gone to bed, Hermione. We should be going to bed t-to-too." Ginny yawned.

Hermione's heart fell. So no goodnight? Draco was gone to bed, or she hoped he was anyway.

She left the great hall with Ginny tried not to look around her as they made there way along the familiar path to the dorms. She didn't need to have anymore more flashbacks - not tonight anyway. Her head sunk into the soft squishy pillow of her bed in her old dorm room and she sighed. Sleep evaded her, and she spent quite some time tossing and turning before finally falling into a dreamless sleep at 1.01AM, with tired eyes and a heavy heart.

Draco watched as Hermione hugged Fleur, the silver haired goddess who didn't even seem to notice that he was present. As if he cared. If he stayed, she might notice him eventually and then the questions would start and the 'is he actually with you two?' glances would be cast between the girls and Draco figured that Hermione deserved to catch up with Fleur without having to explain his presence. It wasn't exactly normal behaviour for him to wait behind her shoulder until she was finished – just so he could say goodnight. And he couldn't say goodnight to her the way he wanted to anyway.

So Draco left. His footsteps were lost in a sea of noisy footfalls all around him as he pushed through the crowds and made for the Slytherin dorms. He thought about stopping at the door, about looking back at her and making eye contact, maybe waving to let her no he was going. But he kept his head down, he kept his feat pointing away from her, and she didn't notice he had left.

Maybe if he stayed away from her forever she wouldn't remember that he had existed.

No, he told himself, Hermione would notice.

_Not because she loves me but because she sees me as another stupid broken project and she wants to fix me. Well I hope she knows she fucking can't. I'll never be an A+, no matter how much I want to. I'll never be more that a fucking mess._

He regretted, of course, thinking such selfish and spiteful thoughts. He was truly appreciative that Hermione was helping him. But he hated what she was doing to his mind, to his …. heart? He hated it because he had no idea what it was, and he liked knowing things.

It was only when his head hit the soft, sleep inducing pillow that he remembered about The Vision. It started out innocently, playing in his mind as he wondered what could it possibly mean, and why it was so eerily vivid. But when he tried to sleep, to escape from thinking about it, the scene playing in his head refused to leave. It was on a loop, he couldn't escape it. He flipped over and pulled a pillow over his head, blocking out everything but the Vision as he tried and tried to see the face of the girl in the grey coat – but he couldn't, and he was convinced he didn't recognise her anyway.

When sleep finally allowed him a sweet refuge, he began to dream about it. But it was a twisted dream. He was running through the puddles and the girl was running after him.

_Catch me,_ he thought hurriedly, _kiss me, and make me remember_.

But the girl couldn't catch him; she was always four, five, six steps behind him. He wanted her to reach him.

The next morning, Hermione woke at half six – as she usually did when in Hogwarts. She slipped down to the showers - as she usually did – and made it back to the dorms feeling fresh and ready for the day. She liked getting up early and beating the morning rush.

The common room was still empty when she got back, and she sunk into her favourite armchair by the unlit fireplace. She allowed herself a moment to look around, to remember the room and smile. Then she found herself wondering when Ron and Harry would finally wake up, and come padding down the boys staircase, because she needed their help. With a jolt she remembered that they were not up in the boys dorms, but at home – sleeping soundly.

With a sigh she pulled a notebook from her bag and began to brainstorm club name ideas.

Society of Student Unionisation (S.S.U)

Equality for Everyone (E.F.E)

Inter Hogwarts Friendship Society (I.H.F.S)

Individuals Respecting Individuality in Students (I.R.I.S)

She liked the last one best, IRIS, and in a matter of minutes she had magically produced several posters advertising the first I.R.I.S meeting, to be held on Friday night in the Room Of Requirement.

**I.R.I.S**

Individuals Respecting Individuality in Students!

Are you an individual with an open mind? Do you wish that students in Hogwarts could just… all get along? Live harmoniously?

Would you like to see Slytherins and Hufflepuffs walking down corridors together, smashing stereotypes to pieces and re-defining the meaning of friendship at Hogwarts?

EVERYONE CAN BE FRIENDS! BE FRIENDS WITH WHOEVER YOU WANT!

Join IRIS and together we can make Hogwarts into an inter-house friendship society.

WE NEED YOU!

First Meeting is to take place this Friday in the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor across form the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.

All welcome.

She smiled at the pages of parchment, then hauled herself from the armchair, pinned one to the notice board and set off around the castle to pin up some more.

When Draco woke up, the light stung his eyes. It was late, too late to being only waking up on the first day back. He dragged himself out of bed in a hurry, searching around for a pair of socks. He was the only Slytherin from his year that had returned for seventh year, so he was given his own dorm. There was other seventh year Slytherins, of course, but as they had never been in his year previously – they had there own dorm, and there was no room for him. Not that he was complaining – he loved the fact that he had his own room.

He pulled his uniform on, ran a hand through his hair and splashed some freezing water onto his face. After brushing his teeth, he assumed he was as ready for the day as time would allow.

He rushed through the castle and up to the Great Hall, eager to grab a stack of toast that could be eaten on his way to the first class – he had to pick up a timetable too. "Running When Late" is a phrase that usually ends in turmoil.

The runner sometimes falls, the runner sometimes endangers themselves (like kamikaze dashing between cars on a busy street) and sometimes – the runner crashes into an innocent bystander that had no idea they were about to get bashed into. Draco Malfoy was the runner, but he never claimed to be smart.

He should have anticipated the fact that he would either 1) fall, 2) get run over or 3) bash into someone. But he, being the opposite of a morning person and also being a very hungry boy, anticipated none of these. So naturally, it was a complete surprise when he rounded the corner to enter the great hall and promptly sent Hermione Granger flying onto her back as he fell on top of her. It wasn't a graceful fall either, like the romantic falls in story books or movies.

He absolutely lambasted Hermione and her hip bone whacked harshly into the hard stone floor. And when he fell on top of her it was far from a movie scene. He threw his hands out to catch his fall and promptly placed them either side of her twisting body. But his elbows snapped and he collapsed onto her, no doubt causing more pain than she was already in. She gasped underneath him.

He immediately pulled himself off of her.

"Uh, Merlin, Hermione are you okay? Shit I'm so sorry I didn't mean to knock you down!"

She grimaced, looking up at him from underneath heavy eyelashes.

"I'm – Ow- fine Draco. S'okay, honestly. Just, let me get up."

She hoisted herself to her feet and staggered, he caught her arm.

"Thanks. I'm okay, I was just coming to find you actually!"

"Really?" he asked her.

"Mhm Hmh. Look at these, I made them this morning."

She handed him the fliers.

I.R.I.S he read.

"What do you think?"

He thought she looked really beautiful with toast crumbs on her chin. He grinned.

"They look really great, Hermione."

She beamed at him.

**A/N: So i know this is kind of a filler chapter and not much majorly important stuff happens but a lot of very important stuff happens in the next chapter, which will be up in a day or two. Thank you for reading!**

**Special thanks to annaea3077, LUNA GURLZ, Kat, SeptemberOwl853, lukas 10, Guest/SpideySense and Caitlin (: Your feedback means alot and i love reading your comments. Thanks to everyone who followed and Favorited.**

**Please review, it would make me so happy! (:**


	7. Chapter Seven

**Thank you for reading my story.**

Chapter Seven

Hermione pulled a turquoise feathered quill from her bag and set it on the desk infront of her. It was first class of the day – Potions – and she was sitting beside Ginny. Draco sat infront of them, alone.

"Hermione why is he hanging around you like a bad smell?" Ginny whispered under her breath.

Slughorn sauntered into the classroom, a broad smile stretched on his wide face.

"He's not a bad smell Ginny! And I don't mind him being around. He is my friend. He's different now, I promise. Please get to know him, for me?"

Now it was Ginny's turn to scowl. Hermione actually thought that Ginny was being quite hypocritical. She had, in fact, been the one who had invited him to Harry's birthday party. It was all well and good for her to expect Harry should make amends with Draco, but she wasn't so willing to do it herself.

"Why should I just immediately forgive him for all the shit he's caused?"

"You don't have to forgive him immediately." Hermione told her, "Have one conversation with him and tell me he's not a changed man."  
Slughorn cleared his throat.

"Welcome back, everyone. It is wonderful to see some familiar faces return to me again. I hope this morning finds you well?"

A general grumble of consent ran through the class, not convincing anyone that the morning did, indeed, find them well.

"Well… it is early I suppose." Slughorn mumbled, "Anyway! Onwards and upwards! This morning we will be brewing a complex little potion that causes the drinker to take on the abilities of a chameleon. But take heed! Even inhaling the fumes of this potion can sometimes cause a person to change colour temporarily. Okay, everyone please gather around my table please and I'll do a demonstration!"

Hermione slotted back into the routine of classes as if she had never been out of it. As if she hadn't spent a year absent from school, sleeping in forests and on hillsides, living on one meal a day.

Potions turned out to be a very enjoyable class, apart from the potion smelling uncannily like boiled cabbage. But the fact that some students, who stood to close to the brewing potion, left the classroom in various shades of rainbow colours went down a treat.

After double potions, they had Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Hermione couldn't wait to see how Fleur was going to approach the subject.

"Welcome to my class." Fleur addressed them briskly, with a thin smile. She stood at the top of the classroom, ringing her hands and wearing robes of silvery pale blue. Her silvery blond hair was piled on top of her head in a bun, and her eyes were sparkling with nerves.

"I have a few things to say to you all before we begin. Firstly, in my class you will listen when I talk." Everybody was listening, rather more than necessary on Seamus Finnegan's part. Fleur continued, "Also, I want you all to stand up, and take a seat beside somebody 'oo ees not a member of your house." On saying this, Fleur caught Hermione's eye and winked. The pieces fell into place, Fleur must have seen the I.R.I.S fliers and decided to help Hermione 'Redefine Friendship!'

Hermione smiled back and stood up with her books in her arms.

Draco walked to her side.

"Do you want to sit together?" he asked her politely, his jumper hanging over one shoulder and his shirt un-tucked.

"Erm, yeah, alright then." She smiled and sat back down where she was standing. Draco slid into the seat next to her, his long arms folding infront of him on the desk.

Ginny had moved across the room, and was now sitting beside the black haired boy that had scowled at her the night before. She didn't look too happy, and neither did he.

Draco was picking at the skin on his thumb again.

"Okay, so now ve can begin." Fleur moved around her desk and flicked on a projector with her wand.

"Ve are going to 3atch a slideshow on Muggle Weapons, and the reason they are evil. They are muggle forms of defence and are extremely complex and dangerous. If you are to survive along side ze muggles you should know 'ow zey arm themselves."

Draco's eyebrows shot up as a gun appeared on the screen and he leaned forward in anticipation. Hermione wondered why he was so eager to learn about _anything _that had to do with muggles.

But maybe, she thought, he always has been this interested, but it was never allowed before. Or maybe the fact that this was a killing weapon just endeared him.

Hermione couldn't wait until lunch time, she wanted to talk to Draco about the class, and if that meant sitting at the Slytherin table again then she would do it.

When class was over, Fleur walked over to Hermione, a smile tugging on the corners of her lips, nervously she asked,

"Zeed you think it vas okay? For zee first lesson?"

Hermione felt a rush of emotion towards this woman, her sister in law. She had fought so bravely in the war, alongside her husband, who she simply adored, despite his scars. She was annoying at times, and completely full of herself, but she was kind, she was loyal, and she was a brilliant teacher. Hermione admired her for what she was doing, sharing her knowledge with others and trying to educate students in a way that was new, but not wrong.

"It was great Fleur, really different, but really great!"

"Oh zank heavens!" Fleur looked relieved, and a proper smile took over her features, "I vas so worried!"

Hermione thought that Fleur's life had been nothing but worry for the last few years, and she deserved to be happy again.

At lunch, Hermione had planned to sit once again at the Slytherin table, but Draco and Ginny had walked on ahead of her when she had been talking to Fleur, and when she entered the great hall it was to see something very different.

Ginny and Draco were sitting together at the Gryffindor table, across from Dean and Seamus. And they were all talking. As she walked closer to them she realised that Draco looked extremely nervous, and a sheen of sweat gleaned on his forehead. Hermione sat down beside him on the bench and let her book bag fall to the floor at her feet. Draco looked over at her, his eyes becoming relieved at her presence.

"Hermione, it's good to see you again – finally." Seamus was grinning at her.

"You too Seamus." She tore her eyes from Draco's, "And Dean- how've you been."  
"Not to bad Hermione. Glad to be back."

Hermione ate lunch with her friends, and she laughed a lot. Seamus and Dean were willing to give Draco a chance, and when he realised that – he relaxed a bit and had fun discussing who would win in a battle – A wizard with a gun or a wizard with a wand.

They had Herbology and Charms before dinner, and then a triple free period.

The day went well, and Hermione enjoyed falling back into the comfortable routine.

It wasn't until she was walking back to the common room alone after dinner that she started to feel homesick. She missed Ron.

It was when she passed the huge portrait of the man stroking his pointed goatee that a pang of pain shot through her heart and she longed for his presence by her side.

She slipped quietly into the common room and up into her dormitory where she dissapeered inside a romance novel. Only a few days before she would see Ron again.

When Draco reached his dormitory that night, alone, he wondered how he had been so lucky. Today he had talked a lot, and strangely he enjoyed it. Seamus and Dean were great, and Ginny tended to drive him insane. But he didn't hate her anymore. She was annoying as hell but she was funny sometimes.

He lay down on his green quilted bed and his hands fell behind his head. He closed his eyes for ten minutes and allowed himself to daydream. Ten minutes and then he would start his homework. _Stupid fucking homework_.

It was, however, only three minutes and fifty three seconds before his eyes shot wide open and he sat up fast, reaching for his school bag to begin his potions essay, pronto.

Daydreaming about Hermione, pressed up against the bookshelf in the corner of his dorm, his body merely inches from hers, inches that were closing to centimetres by the second, millimetres… Her breath hitting his lips and his lips closing the gap between them… No, _daydreaming was not safe_. Daydreaming was not good. And daydreaming about Hermione, and Hermione's body, and the way it would mould so well against his defiantly was _not allowed_.

The rest of the week passed much in the same way, and when Friday rolled around, Hermione woke at half six with a leaping heart. Today was the first I.R.I.S meeting – and tonight she would be back in the burrow with Ron. It was going to be a great day, she could feel it.

She showered as usual and when she returned to the dormitory Ginny was awake and up.

"You're genuinely excited about this meeting, aren't you?" she asked Hermione.

"It's going to be great Gin, I can feel it."

"You're not worried about, um, low attendance?"

"Of course I am, but it's only the first meeting. Even if it's only five people, we can start making a difference can't we?"

Ginny smiled, "I guess so Hermione."

Hermione smiled back.

The whole way through the day Hermione was wishing the classes to end quickly. She couldn't wait for six o'clock to roll around, and at half five she dragged Draco and Ginny up to the room of requirement to help her set up.

When they entered the room it has transformed into a small, bright classroom.

The walls were a green-blue swirl of paint and were plastered with posters that displayed inspirational quotes and pictures. There was a large round table in the middle of the room, and a vase stood in the middle. Hanging on the wall behind the table was a banner sporting the club name. Hermione looked around approvingly and nodded at Draco and Ginny.

"It looks great, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I mean it's perfect." Draco replied, his fingers trailing around the rim of the table as he walked around it, his shirt half un-tucked again.

She smiled at him, then hauled a brown satchel onto the table, the contents of which clinked metallically.

"What's in the bag Hermy-own?" Ginny asked, taking a seat at the sunny wooden table.

"Bracelets." Hermione answered, and tipped some out on the table. "Every member can take one. As a symbol, I suppose, a type of badge to say they belong to this club."  
The bracelets were plain, silver bands, elegant and simple. Engraved on the inside of each was was the the letters IRIS.

"Wow Hermione these are really cool!" Ginny commented, impressed.

"Thanks! You can take one, both of you, and then sign your names on the member ship board."

At exactly six o'clock, the first prospective member entered the room. It was the black haired boy that had sit with Ginny in DADA.

"Morgan! Come on in!" Ginny smiled.

Hermione was dumbstruck. How did Ginny not only manage to befriend the stand-offish Slytherin, but somehow also convince him to come to the meeting? She had no idea, but she didn't really care. If Ginny had managed to get him to come along, that was good enough for Hermione. At two minutes past six, three timid first years entered.

They signed their names as Caitlin Carlton, Ivy Fenlon and Orlaith Allen.

They were followed closely by Luna, Seamus, Dean and Neville.

At five past six, two blond haired Ravenclaw twins entered the room and apologized for being late. There names were Gordon and Nicholas Grady, and they wore identical, handsome grins.

At ten past six, the thirteen members sat down at the round table and Hermione passed out bracelets.

"Okay, well. Thank you all so much for coming. The aim of this group is to promote the fact that it's okay, and _allowed_, to be friends with people from different houses. There has been some… er… discrimination between houses in the past, and we want to put an end to it. Okay lets go around the table. How about if… you say your name and house, and maybe one fact about you? Just so we can all get to know one another.

"I'm Draco. Slytherin. And I play as seeker." Draco caught Hermione's eye and winked.

"My name is Ginny, and I'm in Gryffindor. I know how to tie other peoples shoelaces using just my toes."

A small muttering of laughter ran around the table.

"Em, I'm, uhm, Orlaith. I'm in Gryffindor and I, uhm, I like to write."

"I'm Caitlin, I'm a Slytherin, and I play piano."  
"My name is Ivy, I'm in Hufflepuff and I love Poptarts."

"I'm Morgan. Slytherin and I can probably beat you in Wizards Chess with my eyes closed."  
_So modest,_ Hermione thought sarcastically, _what a git._

She smiled to herself. Ron would call him a git if her were here. And he would probably challenge him to a game.

"I'm Luna, I'm a Ravenclaw and I was once bitten by a Gernumbli Gardensi." Hermione grinned at Luna.

"Dean. I'm a Gryffindor and my middle name is Tobias."

"My name is Seamus. I belong in Gryffindor and I have mastered the spell that turns water into rum."

"I'm Gordon. I'm from Ravenclaw and I like, uhm, painting."

"I'm Nick, I'm Ravenclaw too, and I have no idea what to say because I'm pretty boring."

"You're _not_ boring." Orlaith said quickly, then proceeded to blush hysterically, apparently surprised that she had said that aloud and that people had heard her.

Nick beamed across the table at the embarrassed girl.

"Well, I'm Hermione, I'm a Gryffindor and I think that there's no better weather than thunder storms."

Draco flinched. Thunder storms? Why on earth did she like them? His brain immediately began to replay the Vision and he pushed it aside, sick of it taking over his thoughts and not being able to decipher its meaning.

"So, did everyone get a bracelet?"

Nods and yeses echoed around the table.

"Good. Okay, so the first matter of business before we leave is for me to ask you all too just… talk to everyone. See how much of a difference you can make by being friendly. And if you can, recruit more members for next weeks meeting!"

For the next half hour, everyone chatted happily and got to know each other better. When half six rolled around, and the meeting ended, Hermione left the room with a glowing smile.

"Brilliant! That was brilliant!" She jumped on the balls of her feet as Draco chuckled at her.

"Yeah… it really was. _You_ were brilliant."

Ginny had walked away with Luna, and Hermione took his hands in hers and made him twirl.

"We're doing it Draco! We are slowly but surely _taking over the world!"_

He laughed at her and twirled her around, loving how she seemed to be glowing.

She draped an arm around his shoulder as he walked with her to the Entrance Hall. A group of seventh years were assembled there, waiting to go out of the castle bounds and apparate home for the weekend.

"Hermione!" Ginny called her over. "Ron gave me this, he told me to give it to you and tell you to apparate to this address."

She handed Hermione a slip of Parchment with a scribbled street name in London, written in Ron's messy scrawl.

"He said it was a surprise." Ginny beamed.

"Okay, thanks Gin." Hermione told her, smiling to herself and wondering what on earth Ron had planned.

Professor McGonagall escorted the group outside to Hogwarts front gates, and then bid them a due for the weekend.

Hermione hugged Ginny and watched her dissaperate - back to her apartment, where Harry would no doubt be waiting for her.

Hermione turned to say goodbye to Draco and found him intensely looking into her eyes, his own eyes looking pained.

"Hermione would you mind if I apparated back with you, to that address in London? It's just, I don't like the idea of you ending up on some dark street alone – i-if Ron isn't there yet. I just want to make sure you get there safely."  
Hermione smiled at him and nodded.

"You're too kind Draco. But it would be an honour to apparate with you." She chuckled. "Thank you." She told him, brown eyes serious now. She was really delighted that he cared so much about her as to want to see her off safely.

He took her small, warm hand in his and she read off the name of the street they were apparating too. Her hand was the only thing real as they whizzed through time and space, the world closing in upon them. He hated apparating, hated it with a passion. The minute his feet hit solid ground he breathed out a sigh of relief. But when he opened his eyes, it was to find angry blue ones staring back into his.

Ron was standing under an orange street light, his red hair tussled and coppery, he was wearing a black suit.

In his arms he held a large bouquet of flowers. Hermione's heart jumped when she saw him and she smiled, but his eyes were not on hers. His eyes were on Draco Malfoy, and they were filled with hatred, fiery hot hatred. Hermione should have said no, she should have considered the possibility that Ron would not have been late to meet her, and that he would hate seeing her with Draco. She dropped his hand like it burned her and didn't notice as his face shattered.

"Ron…" she walked to him and his eyes finally met hers.

"'Mione." He grinned. She reached him and his arms enveloped her, and she let her lips fall onto his like it was the most natural thing in the world. But it felt all wrong. She pulled away and smiled gently at Ron, before turning around and walking towards Draco. She felt like a right git for dropping his hand like that, he didn't deserve it, he had brought her here safely.

Hermione walked to him, her eyes holding guilt. Then she hugged him and his hands absently trailed gently down her spine as he breathed in her scent. He should probably stop looking like he was enjoying this so much when her boyfriend, the Weasel, was right infront of him.

"Thank you. I'm safe now." She whispered softly in his ear.

_You're safe in my arms Hermione._

She pulled away and kissed his cheek.

"C'mon 'Mione I made, uh, a reservation for dinner." Ron called.

Draco scowled.

"I better get going." He said quietly, "Nice to, erm, see you Ron."  
Ron glared at him.

"Ron maybe we should invite Draco to eat with us?" Hermione smiled at Ron.

"NO!" Ron blurted, "I mean, Hermione I have something I need to talk to you about, in private."

"That's okay, I would have declined anyway Hermione. But thank you, I hope you guys… have a great time." Draco tried to smile, but it turned out as more of a grimace.

Having dinner with Hermione and her boyfriend was not exactly on his list of things he's like to do.

"See you Monday." He told her, and before she could say anything else, he turned on the spot and was gone.

"I've missed you so damn much." Ron smiled at her and handed her the flowers. Hermione beamed.

"Oh Ron, me too. It's great to be back. But why are we here?"

"Well, I had this idea see, and I thought it was good but now I'm re-thinking because what if you don't – I mean, you might not like-"

"Ron, I love you, but you're rambling. What is going on?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"I really hope you like it 'Mione, I mean, if you don't we can always sell."

His eyes trailed away from hers and up the steps that were beside them, up the steps to a midnight blue painted door with a gold door knocker. It was surrounded by a creeper of roses.

Hermione's eyes widened and she stuttered.

"Ron, what is it. R-ron is t-that o-our-?"

He cut her off, throwing a pair of keys into her hands.

"That-" he gestured up towards the blue door, "is ours."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat momentarily, before she threw her arms around his neck.

"What!? Ron you can't be serious! That beautiful – That house- It's really ours?"  
He nodded, his hands hanging loosely around her waist and a broad smile on his lips.

"It's ours 'Mi."

She couldn't believe it, this couldn't be real.

"Ours…" she whispered, then kissed his lips again.

"But you said you made a reservation? What did you mean?"  
"Well, I may have lied just a little there. You see, I made us dinner. Without using magic mind you! To be honest I just didn't want Malfoy to be there with his stupid blond head at our first dinner together, in our new house."

Hermione frowned, she couldn't really blame Ron, could she?

"Can we go in?" she asked him, excitement brimming in her eyes.

"Of course we can go in. Let's go, Madame." He laughed and scooped her off her feet.

She protested profusely.

"Ron put me down I'm way too heavy!"

You're light as a feather 'Mione so shut up. We both know your skinny ankles couldn't make it up these steps anyway." He grinned, and with a flick of his wand the front door flew open as he carried her across the threshold.

"Welcome home." He whispered, and then kissed her for what was the third time that night but would certainly not be the last.

Ron had made them lasagne, and it was delicious. Hermione couldn't stop her mind from straying towards thoughts about Draco. She wondered was he home yet, and if he was lonely all alone. She wondered if he was warm enough and if he had enough food for the weekend. She wondered if he was thinking about her. She wondered all the way up until Ron took her hand and showed her their new bedroom. Then she forgot all about everything except for the fact she was so bloody in love.

Draco apparated home and fell into bed. He didn't want to think, he didn't want to

Breathe, he didn't want to picture what Ron and Hermione would inevitably do tonight.

It was all too vivid in his head. His apartment was freezing, so he pulled out a bottle of the finest old Fire-whiskey and poured himself a glass. When he opened his fridge all he found was a bowl of grapes.

_Are grapes meant to be kept in the fridge? Probably not._

He picked them off the stalk one by one, peeled them, and then popped them into his open mouth. One grape, one mouthful of whiskey. He hated the texture of peeled grapes, but peeling them was just too much fun. That and the fact he had nothing else to do. He peeled and drank and peeled and drank until his fingers became to clumsy to peel and his hands too shaky to pour. Then he fell asleep and forgot about it all.

**A/N: Thanks for reading and thanks to ****everyone who followed or favourited!**

**LUNA GURLZ**** and ****Dramione'sInTheStars****, I appreciate you're comments as always (:**

**Please review! **


	8. Chapter Eight

**Thank you for reading my story.**

**Chapter Eight.**

Hermione's eyes fluttered closed as she leaned her forehead onto the cool glass of the window. She was apparating back to Hogwarts in a few minutes. McGonagall's rules stated that all seventh years, who had journeyed home for the weekend, had to be back at Hogwarts by seven o'clock on a Sunday night. Hermione wanted to spend every last second that she had with Ron, who sat across from her in one of their mismatching armchairs. He was playing wizard's chess with his best friend, and for once – Harry seemed to be winning.

The room looked like something from a story book. A glorious warmth emitting fire was aglow in the huge old-fashioned fireplace. Ginny, a tartan blanket wrapped around her legs, was curled up on the fading red squishy couch. She was watching the chess game with a sort of absent curiosity, and her eyes held humorous surprise that Harry was _actually_ getting quite good.

Ron looked happy, even if he looked tired. The night before had been spent in a muggle bar, and the group of four had retreated back to Ron and Hermione's new home with each other's terrible signing ringing in their ears and drunken laughter making it difficult to say goodbye - so Ginny and Harry had stayed.

Nobody watching could have known that the group would be separated by many miles in a matter of minutes. No one in the room looked like they wanted to leave, and there was no signs to tell that any of them was going to.

Rain trickled down the gutter pipe next to the window and Hermione closed her eyes. She wasn't sad this time, about leaving. Not if every weekend she got to come home would be even half as good as this one had been.

It had been brilliant, magical. She still couldn't believe that they had their own apartment at last. The fact that Ron picked the most perfect place, the most Hermione-ish apartment he could find just made her heart _glow._ He knew her so well.

Being apart from him for week made them both value what time they had together even more than usual, and Hermione was quite content with knowing she was going back for another week of schooling. But returning to her amazing new home every weekend was not going to lose it's novelty for quite some time - if it ever did.

Ginny stood up and folded the patched blanket with a yawn, "C'mon Hermione its five to seven."

Harry stood, his black hair once again in a tousled mess and his eyes victoriously sparkling. He had won. His arms enveloped Ginny and she let her chin fall on his shoulder.

"See you next week Harry." Kiss.

"I'll miss you, Gin." Kiss.

"Me too. But it won't be for long." Kiss.

Ron was grinning as he pulled Hermione up from the floor where she was sitting. All the windows in the apartment were floor length, elegant. Hermione had made a sort of nest with pillows beside her favourite one, which was hung with a red velvet curtain. She grinned back at him, on her feet and at his level.

"I don't think I'll ever forget this weekend." She whispered, playing with the button on his shirt. "Neither will I."

And then he hugged her, and she could feel that he was not as tense and anxious as he had been at there last goodbye. She giggled when he whispered in her ear – "Don't tell Harry, but I let him win."

Her feet planted back on solid ground, it wasn't raining at Hogwarts. Ginny appeared beside her, swaying slightly, and it was _Ginny_ that held back Hermione's hair as she threw up violently into the bush next to the castle gates.

"You okay?" Ginny asked her when she stood up again, her small frame shaking.

"Y-yeah." She mumbled. "I didn't f-feel sick before, I guess apparating on a hangover is not the _best _way to apparate."

"No." Ginny smiled sympathetically. "Lets get you up to the castle then."

Hermione's legs wobbled unsteadily as they walked up the Castle lawn.

It was Sunday morning, his legs stretched out infront of him as he sat on the park bench. It was beautiful here, the leaves of autumn colours cascaded down from the trees.

He had yanked his black hood over his head upon leaving the apartment, cursing the awful weather, as was the social normality - but he did not bother to put an anti-wetting charm on his clothes. If rain wanted to fall on him, he let it. He _liked_ it, cool and cleansing on his pale skin.

He had come to this park exactly twice before. The first time, he had slept drunkenly on this very bench all night. The second time, he had come to feed the ducks.

When he had enough of pretending to blend in, he stood. His wet, blond fringe was dripping, sticking out from under his hood as he walked fast. Vaulting over the park fence, he walked into the cluster of trees at the back of the park and dissaperated to Hogwarts. No point on dragging it out, he wanted to go back, to get some proper food. He had been living off greasy chips all weekend.

There was no rain, no clouds, when he arrived outside the castle gates – so he dropped his hood and shook out his hair.

He got a sandwich in the great hall at lunch, and then walked down to a tree near the black lake. He liked outdoors, he liked sitting and just watching as the world carried on around him – birds, people, flowers and the sky – he loved the sky the most. It was never the same, clouds always changed, travelled. And at night time, he watched the stars.

He had a ruffled notebook in his bag, not for drawing - he couldn't draw at all. He liked to write in it. He wrote what the world looked like to him- in that split second of time. He captured what he saw with words, and never had he wrote the same sentence twice. That was what he intended to do with his day – sit and write.

He wasn't exactly sure what it was called, writing the things he saw. It wasn't poetry and it wasn't like writing a book. It was just… nothing. He wasn't even sure why he did it. At Malfoy Manor, there were notebooks upon notebooks of his scribbled writing, all describing things. He couldn't remember everything he had written though. All he knew is that he still did it now.

**Draco's Notebook: PRIVATE**

_I see my door. It's white. It's open. Draco junior, my green dragon teddy, is lying beside it, guarding my room from intruders. Draco is Latin for Dragon. It's night time at the window. But Mummy hasn't closed the curtains yet, the tree is like fingers scraping the glass, I'm scared. I can hear screams, but I don't know who it is. It sounds like Mummy…_

_I can see a rabbit, it's running across the lawn. I like it, it's cute. I'm staying quiet so I don't scare it. Now it's going to run out into the driveway. I don't want it to. Dad and Mum are sitting on the porch. I don't want him to see the rabbit. He would kill it._

"Filthy animals eating the flowers. Get the gardener to poison them Narcissa."

_The rabbit's gone, I ran at it and it ran away into the bushes._

"Draco baby be careful you'll fall running about like that!"

_I can see Mummy. She's making my bed with Dobby. I'm in my chair. Mum is singing, her voice is beautiful. She looks happy… but she hasn't gone to the nurse yet this morning… her eye is still black…_

He wondered if the notebooks were still under his bed, in his old room, or if they had been thrown out. Since he moved to London he started a new one, and he wrote in now.

_I can see water, rippling water. It's dark, murky. I can see the sky, it's clear, there's clouds - a few, but they are puffy and white. The wind is blowing in the forest's trees. _

It was half three when he fell asleep, and seven o'clock when he woke up.

"DO you think you should go to Madame Pomfrey?"

"No… I feel better now Gin. I'll be fine. It was just because we apparated…"

He heard…Hermione? Sitting up, rubbing his eyes, he looking around.

Once again, his ears heard Hermione before his eyes had a chance to find her. The two girls were coming in Hogwarts gate, and their voices carried through the still evening air to reach Draco. He waited until they passed by his tree, not wanting them to know where he had been. Before he left, he scribbled one last thing hastily into his notebook. Then he stood up fast, gathered his stuff and ran to catch up to them.

"Hermione! Ginny!"

Ginny turned, rolling her eyes.

"Oh brilliant. Draco's coming."  
Hermione grinned, "You say it like it's a bad thing."

"Well it isn't good." Ginny muttered under her breath, but Hermione didn't hear her.

"Draco!" she greeted him happily, "Did you have a good weekend? We just got back too!"

"Hi Hermione! Ginny. Yeah, it was great." The lie slipped easily off his tongue, he had always been a good liar. He didn't mention the fact he had arrived back earlier.

"I still think you should go to the hospital wing Hermione, and get checked out - just incase."

Now it was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes, she turned back to her worrying friend.

"Ginny I feel _fine!_ Honestly it's nothing."

"Were you sick?" Draco asked, matching Hermione's pace as she walked quickly.

"No. Well, yes. But I'm fine now!"

Ginny narrowed her eyes, she wished that Hermione would just get Madame Pomfrey to take a look. But no, she was far too stubborn.

Draco cursed under his breath. "Fuck. Uh, I left something – my notebook, back there. I uh, I'll go back and get it. I'll see you guys later."  
Hermione stopped walking.

"Did you drop it? I'll go back with you."

Ginny scowled. "Well, whatever then. I'm gonna go get dinner. You coming or staying Hermione?"

"Staying. If I'm _so sick_ maybe some more fresh air will do me some good."

Draco's face broke into a grin, he liked this snippy, sarcastic Hermione.

Ginny huffed and walked away, her red hair glowing like fire under the sun.

"Did it fall out? What is it?" Hermione asked him as they started the descending walk back towards the tree.

"Erm, well, no. I didn't just get back to Hogwarts, actually. It's just a notebook, not important really. I was just sitting out for a while, near the lake. I never packed it back in my bag. Sorry."  
"No apologies Draco, I need the healing power of fresh autumn air anyway." She grinned

He laughed.

"So, what, did you actually get sick?"

Hermione blushed.

"Erm, yes. Outside the gates. Apparating on a hangover is never a good idea."

He breathed a sigh of relief, it was only hangover sickness. When he found out she was sick, worry had consumed him. But he hadn't pestered her for details, she seemed snippy enough at Ginny for suggesting she get treatment.

"Did you have a good weekend then?" he asked.

She smiled at him.

"It was fantastic, Draco! Ron and I moved into an apartment together!"

And there it was. The werewolf was back, ripping him to pieces, devouring his heart.

Dead, his heart fell like a lead weight. She had moved in with Ron. Ron had bought her a house.

"T-that's really great." He stuttered out. "I'm happy for you Hermione."

She looked up at him from under her eyelashes. "Thank you, Draco."

What had she been expecting? For him to be upset, for him to be angry? Did she want the news of her moving in with Ron to hurt him? No. She did not. Did she expect that it would?

Why the hell did her heart drop in her chest when he told her he was _happy?_

She looked up at him, his hair hanging in lose waves, and his grey eyes on hers. They, at least, did not look happy.

As a matter or fact, his whole face looked like it was being force painfully into a happy expression. His words had convinced her that he was truly happy for her, but his face told a different story. A story she much preferred. _Why did she want him to be upset?_

Hermione realised; she wanted him to be jealous. She wanted him to be angry that _he_ was not the one moving in with her. She wanted to know if he wanted her… because…. Because she wanted him.

_Wait, what?_

She didn't want Draco… did she? No, she did not… but then…. Did she?

Her head was spinning, she felt sick again.

No. This wasn't a real feeling. This wasn't something she wanted or needed or believed was real. She did not love Draco. She loved Ron - the man she had grown up with, like a brother. _Like a brother_. NO! She _loved_ him.

She loved _them._

One as a friend, a brother. One, as her true love.

Her head seemed to be having a hard time deciphering the difference between the two.

"D-Draco?" she murmured, needing to know if she had read his features right, needing to know that, if indeed, he had been jealous. That he had been upset. She needed to know for reasons she could not explain to herself.

"Yeah?" he asked.

There was only one way to get the truth out of a man like Draco, because he never would he straight up tell her. Never would he willingly admit that he was … whatever it was that he was.

"You always were a shit liar." She told him.

His eyebrows shot up.

"W-what? I'm not a shitty l-liar. I'm an excellent liar, _I always have been_."

"No, you have not. You lie with your voice not with your eyes and your eyes are telling me that what you just said was a lie. W-why did you tell me you were happy for me? W-why _aren't_ you happy for me?"

He glared at her.

"What the fuck Hermione!? Why _wouldn't_ I be happy. It's just _fucking brilliant,_ isn't it? How's Ron settling in? Nicely I fucking hope." He spat.

She flinched, but kept walking, matching his pace. "Sorry." He muttered.

She didn't need an apology, she got what she wanted. Proof. Draco wasn't happy. And for some reason that seemed to be right in the centre of Hermione's heart – that made her happy. She hated that reason. She hated the happiness spreading through her, because it was accompanied with worry. Why did she feel this way?

She stopped walking, her hands raking like forks through her hair as she scratched her head painfully. Her breath was ragged, desperate.

_Ron, she loved Ron_. Where the fuck had these feelings for Draco come from, all of a sudden? She despised herself. How could she do this? How could she… (could she?)… love them both?

Draco was broken, he was scarred and he was fragile and maybe… maybe that was why. She had spent weeks helping him, weeks helping him to renaissance himself and become a better man. And in those weeks, in the hours she had spent chatting and the nights she fell asleep worrying, had she grown to love him for the better man that he already was? Had she seen the real him finally realised that he was… that he was so utterly unprecedented and annoyingly charming and so goddamn fucking beautiful? He had taken time to know her, and she had fallen in love while getting to know him.

Draco stopped walking and turned around. She had stopped on the spot, and her hands were pulling at her hair. He walked back towards her.

"Hermione? I, uh, I'm sorry for shouting. I'm so stupid, I'm so sorry. Do you feel sick again?"  
Her eyes lifted to his, tears straining against her long brown eyelashes. His breath hitched.

"Draco." She said his name through a sob. And then her hands left her hair and enclosed around his waist and she hugged him so tightly. What was going on? What had just happened?

She hugged him, breathed him in, she hugged him because it was just a hug and hugging was aloud. Nobody but her could tell from this hug that she was… that she had… that she loved him. She… loved him. She loved him. She needed his arms to hold her up when all she wanted to do was fall because she was the _worst _type of person.

"Draco. I-I'm so s-s-sorry." The tears fell free now, making a damp patch on his grey shirt, right next to his heart.

"Hermione… erm, that's okay? Wait, why are you sorry? You haven't done anything wrong. Look at me. Look."

He tilted her chin up and latched his eyes onto hers.

"Hermione you have not done anything wrong. I should be the one apologizing. I'm so sorry. I shouted. I said things… Please don't cry."  
His thumb caught the tears that hug on her checks and he smiled sadly down at her.

He wanted nothing more that to just make her _see it._ Make her see that she was perfect, that she had done nothing wrong, but everything right. Hermione Granger was always blaming herself but she had done nothing bad. She was tough and brave and knew how to defend herself. But she was fragile, she was delicate, and sometimes, like this time, she needed someone to fix her.

_I'll try to fix you._

He looked down at her and remembered the night that she had fixed him. He didn't know exactly why she was crying but it was breaking his heart. And for the first time, he felt like admitting it to himself, admitting what he had been avoiding thinking about until now. He didn't know why the girl with wavy brown hair and eyes that held the world was crying, but he knew why it was breaking his heart.

His heart wasn't his anymore, and it hadn't been for a while. It was _hers_.

He loved her.

He wasn't ashamed and he wasn't going to try fight with himself and pretend anymore that it was anything but love.

"Hermione what can I do? Tell me and I'll do it."

What had he done? He hadn't done anything. He had done absolutely nothing…_ she_ had done it. He thought it was his fault, and this fact made her want to curl up and die. He always thought it was his fault. _He didn't make me fall in love with him_.

And now he wanted to do something, he wanted to fix it but he couldn't. She knew that this was one mess that couldn't be cleaned up... or magiced away, but she couldn't tell him. No, because he did not love her.

In a moment of realisation she found a very much more plausible excuse for Draco not being _overly_ happy about her new home with Ron. He _hated_ Ron, he didn't love her. That was it, it was just that he hated Ron, and didn't want him to be so happy.

All she wanted was to forget everything going on in her head right now. At least it might be a little bit easier to forget about loving Draco if he didn't love her back.

Ron loved her back.

"C-could you r-read me something?" her voice cracked.

Read her something. He smiled to himself. He remembered what she had done, that night that he had broken down infront of her. She had read to him.

But _he_ couldn't read to her, he couldn't read _well_. He couldn't read books, stories. Not to himself, and certainly not out loud. And anyway, he had no books with him.

_The notebook._

He had his notebook. It was lying under the tree a few yards away from him. It would be easy to read his own writing, his own notes. But did he want to? Did he want to share these personal thoughts with anyone? Even if they were simply stupid scribbles? It wasn't just _anyone_, though. She was the only person in the world he would share them with.

"Okay Hermione, come on."

He led her over to the tall maple tree where he had sat and wrote.

She leaned into him and he wrapped his arm around her.

Hermione shook, her whole body was shaking. When she needed an escape, when she needed to disappear for a while – she would read. But the thought of being away from Draco right now, the thought of leaving him… just so she could start to forget him, it seemed like walking into eternal darkness. She would start forgetting tomorrow. Tomorrow she would pretend like everything was normal again, that she didn't love him, and that the only one for her was Ron. Tomorrow. For now, she just wanted to sit with Draco under the maple tree and be next to him.

"I see a bird." He started reading, his voice taking her away, yet holding her down. She was away from the world, but she was right here with Draco.

"It's slipping in and out of my vision as I write. The sky is a canvas and the bird is the paintbrush. It's diving… swooping. It's free. It's beautiful. It has endless possibilities, infinite opportunities. It can escape my eyes anytime it decides. It can run away from this park, this city, this world. It can dive and swoop on a different landscape everyday, watched by different eyes. Watched by different people, in a different place, with different lives. It never watches us though, it's too busy using the world as a canvas, painting a picture. Free."

Her eyelids fluttered closed.

"I see dust. It's swirling, it looks like glitter in the sun. The window's open, the light's coming trough the dirty pane. Glittering, dancing, dust."

She was smiling slightly, a smile that re-assured him he was doing okay. He wasn't sure if he could do it, if he could comfort someone. But he was doing okay.

"I see cars and buses and taxi's. I see people. They're rushing, they're laughing. Some look worried, some look bored. Some are alone and some are not. I see them walk past. I see them not noticing. Not noticing the man in the grey woollen hat with the blue fingertips, or his ratty haired dog that loyally sits at his feet, beside the empty coffee cup. Or the old woman with the withered hands clutching heavy shopping bags, her ankles about to give way. No one helps, they are pretending now – to not notice."

"I see-" He paused, and looked down at Hermione, her eyes were closed, her breathing steady. She was asleep. Dried tear stains looked like fading scars on her cheeks, fast asleep. His arm tightened around her. She was so vulnerable, so innocent. She lay in his arms, fast asleep in a remote corner of the universe, and no one cared. No one except Draco. He held her to him, held her close. He wanted to keep her safe from everything. He held her close and dropped a silent, whispered kiss onto the top of her brown hair. No one noticed, no one cared – or maybe they were just pretending not to.

He continued reading.

"I see a girl with sun in her hair. She is walking, her arms swinging by her sides and her legs unsteady. Her feet are taking her further away from me with every step. I see this girl, the girl I love, and I want my feet to follow her. I'd follow her anywhere."

That was the last entry in his book, but he continued talking anyway.

"I see a girl with tear scarred cheeks. I want to know what's going on, the reason for the scars.

I see a girl with a heart so big it could hold the moon, her eyes like stars.

I see a girl sleeping, her mind not here, her head full of dreams. I wonder if I'm ever in them – or if I reside simply in the nightmares. I've fallen in love with the sleeping girl. I never want to let her go. I never want to leave her."

Hermione's eyelids fluttered.

"I wonder if she knows… She's always my best dream, and my worst nightmare."

Then she woke up. She was lying in her dorm, in her bed, and Ginny was lying across from her, reading a small yellow book with old Celtic writing on the cover.

"Ginny… what-?" she grumbled.

"He brought you back about an hour ago. Carried you, he said you fell asleep by the lake? Seamus let him into the common room."

Hermione frowned. Had he carried her back? Surely that would have hurt him. If she had known that she would wake up without him then she never would have fallen asleep.

"Did he… say anything? Before he left?"

Ginny blinked, "He, well he asked me to tell you that he-"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

"That you weren't heavy at all so don't even start to worry about it. He said that's what friends are for." Ginny chuckled.

Her heart fell. Now began the forgetting. She wouldn't allow herself to love him any more. Not if he didn't love her, and not while she was absolutely in love with Ron.

Her wrist watch read half past ten, and her head felt heavy. She was starving, but way too tired to get up and go to the kitchens.

"Okay. I'm just going to go back asleep then Gin. Night."

"Night Hermione."

She rolled over, pulling the blankets high around her ears.

_Dreaming_

He was running away. She wanted to catch him. He was going to run right off the cliff, she had to catch him, _drag _him back if she had too, away from the edge.

"DRACO! STOP! PLEASE WAIT!"  
It felt like running under water. He was all too close to falling, to never coming back.

Her feet pounded the ground and her heart thudded in her ears. She couldn't catch him, there wasn't going to be enough time.

"DRACO! STOP! STOP I LOVE YOU!"

He turned, he stopped, he was right at the edge.

"Hermione? Is that you?"  
"IT'S ME! DRACO IT'S ME I LOVE YOU COME BACK!"

"HERMIONE!" he called, his voice desperate and joyful, his feet started moving towards her. And then it happened in slow motion. He fell, fell backwards, his arms flailing.

"NO!" she screamed, trying with all her might to reach him, to save him from falling off the cliff.

"NO DRACO NO!"

"HERMIONE HELP!"

She couldn't. She couldn't reach him, he was falling. Her hands reached for his and almost touched them, her fingertips ghosted his before he fell, he was gone, he was never coming back.

"DRACO!" she screamed, her voice breaking. "I-I love you."

On her knees. She was screaming. On her back. Bellatrix was standing over her.

Screaming, pain, hurt, agony, terror. He was gone…. He was gone.

And then she woke, her heart thudding manically, a cold sweet taking over her body as she flailed in the tangle of sheets. It was dark, too dark.

"Lumos!" she whispered in a panic, and her wand tip ignited on the bedside table beside her. She reached for it and held it, trying to steady her breathing and wiping tears from her hot checks.

She felt disgusting and sweaty, her body ached and her mouth tasted of metal.

She had dreamed of him, of him falling, of him never being there again. She couldn't bare it, the thought of him hurting, of him dying.

It wasn't a dream, it was a nightmare. She loved him, and she couldn't deny it. It wasn't going to leave, it wasn't going to die out, or be forgotten. For years Draco Malfoy himself had been the nightmare, now her nightmare consisted of losing him.

With her feet dragging, she walked to the showers and let the water wake her up slowly. She stood underneath the hot spray for longer than was necessary and wished with all her might that she wasn't in love with him. She didn't want, more than anything, to hurt Ron. Because she loved him too.

Draco scowled at his reflection. The doom was dark, he had just left Hermione back in her dorm. Her face had been calm as he carried her, peaceful, beautiful. He wanted nothing more than for her to wake, to wrap her arms around her neck and whisper that she loved him, then kiss him softly. But she didn't. She slept, she didn't wake, and he left her under the watchful eye of Ginny Weasel…Weasley.

He scowled and wondered, for the first time in his life, if he wasn't _actually_ a handsome devil. He had always believed himself to be on the right side of looks, but now this opinion faltered. Maybe if he was better looking, or his hair was more luscious, Hermione might see him clearer. Maybe then she would see what they could be together – happy, wonderful. Or maybe (and he didn't like thinking about this option) maybe Hermione saw him as ugly because of his personality. Maybe she saw him as Pansy had not, as any of the girls he had been with had not. Maybe she saw him as a person, overall, and it was him - his personality - that made him ugly to her.

He scowled at himself, and then climbed into bed. Maybe one day he'd wake up and this would all just be a dream. On second thoughts, he didn't think he'd like that. He was _way_ too in love with this nightmare.

**A/N: **

**I'm sorry 'cause I'm probably going to start rambling now but I just want to say:**

**I hope you guys don't think this is happening too fast. I'm trying to keep it slow, to keep them falling for each other at a good, safe pace … but it's hard :P I just want to start posting the chapters where the story behind everything is revealed.**

**This story actually does have a bigger plot than them simply falling in love. It isn't going to be simple, and not just because Hermione loves Ron. **

**(**_**I**_** love Ron! – **_**insert me crying**_**-) **

**Draco really does think he is messed up and some stuff that I kind of wish he didn't have to go through is going to happen, but then again, I'm the one putting him through this so I can't complain too much. Anyway – all does not fall in perfect concentric circles of roses for Hermione or Draco and I really can't wait to start posting the chapters where things really start to make some more sense. A lot of the stuff that's happened is vital though, and I need to get the vital information out there before the 'fun' starts. I feel sadistic. Mwahaha. Anyway, I'm rambling, sorry.**

**Thank you so much to the ****reviewers****Kat, ****LUNA GURLZ****, ****ArtsyTigs****, and renatafbarros. I really genuinely appreciate that you guys took the time to give me some feedback! Reviews make me more motivated, and I love checking and finding out that I've got a new one! Your opinions matter so much to me.**

**Thanks to all the people who followed and favourited too, because I really didn't think anyone was even going to read this and it's blown me away that people actually are. Thanks! I love you all!**

**Please review. **

**I'll update soon (:**


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